Wave: Re-Endemic
by Mnesia
Summary: No one cycle is the same. Every one has its own discrepancies, and there is not a soul alive who can properly account every detail. Not even the progenitors of such cycles. Many can be certain of one thing: change. Again, change is coming, slowly but surely. It's time to return to Autumnridge and face the Wave within a new limelight.
1. The Ends That Meet

_**Chapter 1: The Ends that Meet**_

_**Note: **Hey, whassup my friends and fellow writers? Here's a little something I went ahead and done did brew in my lab conveniently titled OpenOffice. It's a rewrite of Wave: Endemic! When I mean rewrite, I'm talking full pimp-my-TF-story remake. Endemic itself is going to unfold VERY differently, to the point of it probably being a big shocker for some of the original readers. There're a lot of updated character personalities and elements to make it feel more like a TF adventure rather than undergoing the transformation and just being done with it. I plan for this variant of Endemic to do what the original failed to provide: give the readers more of the big picture, make characters believable, and not flood the story with varied perspectives. I'm shooting for a maximum of four, rather than like twelve. _

_Just a brief warning, I guess, a LOT of things are different in Re-Endemic. It's supposed to simulate a "cycle", which is currently being explained in Epidemic. It'll get there, I promise. :3 Meanwhile, welcome back to old Autumnridge, and enjoy the madness as it erupts~!_

**_Disclaimer time! I don't own Pokémon!_**

* * *

><p>Hello?<p>

World?

Where is the world?

Is there still a world?

Where are you guys?

Can you guys hear me?

I can't see anything...

No, I can see too much. It's blinding me.

Guys? Please say something.

Of course not... Why would they say anything? How long has it been again? It's been years, right? What are years again? Three hundred days? No. Years are longer. Three hundred sixty? Maybe somewhere around there. Three sixty.

I was in the hive.

I saw pulsing visions of symbols, swirling, blue and white, twirling like music of the eye, singing, ringing my bell. I heard colors. I saw sounds. I felt the untouchable. It was neither warm nor cold. It was outside of my body and inside of my mind. So many three sixties went by since I'd felt this way. I didn't remember any of the points after and before this. This was everything to me. This was my life. It was a bath of colors and sounds dancing on the tips of my whiskers. I was aware of my body, but I also knew that I didn't have one anymore. I was fully integrated into the hive, he called it. I was in the center, the core, the embryo, the meteor. I was liquid starlight.

How many more three sixties was he going to go through before the end? I saw no light in him. He was deathless. He was timeless. He was the one to take me apart piece by piece and put me back together again until I looked pretty enough to be called his creation. I wanted to hate him so much. I wanted to shed anger upon him like all of the others. He peeled anger out of my soul. He took it from my bell. I rang only love. I rang forgiveness. I was his song. Every time, I was his melody.

_I want to hate you. But I love you._

_ If only something could let me hate you, I could feel more complete than you ever tried to make me._

I was not alone. I had two others with me. They were distant from my mind, but close to my body and my soul. I wanted to hear their thoughts. I was so lonely. Was it too much for someone like me to ask for a friend again? I wanted a friend again. I wanted to go back. I wanted my friends back. I wanted the world back.

I wanted a second chance... Please...

There were tears in the starlight. No. The starlight was tears. Everything was tears. I had no anger. All I had was sorrow. That was all that he would let me have. It felt so good to curl up and cry into my tail. It was the final thing there was of my life. Tears brought me so much closer to the ones I truly loved... I was starting to feel hot. My body was burning up. I recognized this feeling. Something told me it was called entry. Entry was occurring now. There was a fire somewhere. It was behind me. It was behind all of us. All three... I remembered. The fire made me remember. I remembered everything. For a moment, I saw my lives rewind. I saw the faces of the world that was before me; there was a... human... with blond hair, touching me with a warm hand. He had been touching my body for years. I remembered his name. They called him Edge.

That wasn't his real name, but it wasn't my real name either.

Still... they called him Edge.

He came closer. I came closer. We were three. We remembered ourselves as far back as our worlds astray, but when I came home, I lost it all again. I was nothing.

I...

Forgot...

Everything...

But... you?

Who are you?

Are you La... Cel... a...za... bi...

N... o...

Do... n... 't... co...me... clos... er...

Ge...t... awa... y... from... m...e!

WHO... ARE... YOU...?

AAAAAAH!

…

I feel it...

Ha...te...

...

It's been said before, in the distant future, so shall it be said again, in the past.

His image, desecrated by an ungodly force.

His intentions, set awry by a terrible resolve.

His name, no longer his own.

You, veiled in a shell of electric, fuzzy static. You, unidentifiable

The dream froze like glazing frost. Cracks lined the scene, rings of silver-lined lightning.

You're mine.

…

I yawned wide, nothing short of daily badinage inhaled. Accidentally, may I add. Noisy chums, they were. 'S not to be confused with any hard feelings. I loved 'em all. They were my buds and we were all one big happy, crazy family.

I was sitting on the dirty ground with dirty jeans and my back against a crumbling dirty wall. On the other side of that wall was a locker room for dudes. In front of me was the gymnasium. All around me were folks I knew who happened to go to the same high school as me. What's more, they were all part of my being, my upbringing as a student here at Metedia High, some of 'em going back earlier than that. Sophomores, all of us, tryin' to make it here at a place nice and quiet, full 'o rigor at all the right stops. Classes were bitches, projects were due soon, and all the work just didn't fit into my line of interest. I was busy with other things, y'know? The fun things. The things that made us happy and cozy. All that.

I threw my arms up, giving them a brief stretch, before setting 'em nice and comfy behind my head so that I didn't have to rest my scalp against the flaking wall. My knuckles were better suited for that. The rest of me was sturdy as well, but whatever; I hated bragging. I didn't get that way by sitting on loose gravel my whole life. I was the classic karate kid; a dude who loved martial arts, sport, and hey, even a bit of writing. Sounded crazy, sure, but I was a member of this little team of heroes that called themselves the Circle, and we were all writers in our own way. Wonder how they got that name. Ah yeah. Tophs gave it to us. Little cuzzy here.

I faced the girly boy. He was sitting to the left of me as always, his legs crossed with his lunch bag in his lap, picking from a bag of sugar-coated strawberries and nommin' away. Ya were what'cha ate. Little strawberry boy here was a couple clicks of estrogen short of being a chick. His hair was sunny bright, all fresh and soft, ponytail trickling down his back like liquid. Real cute face: sky eyes and flowery cheeks, make-up makin' him all pretty—guyliner I guess. Loved to wear his bangs over a good portion of his face. Kinda like me, but hey, I was just too lazy to get it cut. Tophs was a bit of a cross-dresser who pulled it off a lot better than anyone. Just sayin'. Today, his choice of girly garbs was a nice pink spaghetti strap top with this cloudy fuzz on the breast-line. Whatever it was called; I wasn't the clothes expert. Cuzzy was all silky arms, bracelets, and manicured hands and nonsense, what with the tight cut-offs and the frilly flip-flops. Tophs was a summer. Still loved the cold, too. And showing off. The guy had thighs like a supermodel.

Then here I was with my abs and my shoulders and my scraggy-ass punk face. Yeah, I didn't really look like Topher. I was a little bigger. Now I wasn't beefcake or anything, and I'd no interest in that whole thing. I wasn't shooting for macho thunder from down under. I just needed a bit of muscle to protect what mattered. Corny bullshit. Plus I was hard myself; it was the perfect storm for long days of sweat and iron. The folks always teased me; they said that it'd probably be healthy if I left a bit of muscle for my head. Even Al, our local rugby star, had the balls to agree, while the guy was practicing daily, probably droppin' to his knees in wet grass up there at the field. He was standing around with my pal Nick, lookin' all swag in his letterman's jacket, clean brushed blond hair and a golden glint of victory and confidence all up in his eyes—God DAMN the guy was good with the womens. He was big walk and jock here at Metedia. Thankfully, he was here at home with us in the Circle.

Nick over there was a shady, tall fella who dressed pretty well on occasion, and poorly other days—I'd know the guy for ages and I'd still not been able to figure out the pattern behind his mode of dress. Today he was lookin' real snazzy. He had his good 'ol black fedora and a polo shirt gray as the autumn overcast. He had the haze about his face to match it. Them dark hazel eyes all hidin' behind his glasses—Nick was a mystery and a half. I wasn't even sure about his background—was he Asian? Middle East descent? I didn't know. Didn't matter; I liked 'im. Smart guy. Little condescending around the edges, but clever.

We had the girls with us today. Pat and Emi were here chattin' away about stuff on Facebook and outfits that Topher would look cute in, I guess. Yeah only one of 'em was at all super girly and that was our cheerleader Emelina, a recent participant in the Circle's home affairs. I swear, that girl was a spitfire. She had the energy of a freakin' sun. It wasn't that she was like hyperactive, it's just I couldn't picture her sleeping. Excuse me if that seemed perverted, maybe, but Emi was a living, breathing firework. She had the work ethic of a disciple... with a good work ethic. Wit's not my thing. But her? She was sharp as steel scissors, that girl. Dressed real sweet too. Lot like Tophs, 'cept boobs or something.

Then ya had Patty Pat. Light and dark, day and night, up and down—I couldn't think of anymore antonymous analogies, but the point was that these two BFFs, man, they were like polar opposites. Gothic Patricia was only talkative around either the Circle or Emi alone. She loved laughing with us, but holy crap, she was a mouse on her own. You could see it in her face. She was like the shiest living thing, yet she found her way to someone as preppy as Emelina. She was a formal girl. Very polite, covered herself up with a blouse and a sweater, long jeans. Nice accent too. Straight from Australia. Was always nice to hear her speak. We encouraged her to get more out there; she couldn't sit inside and write stories forever. But damn, could she write. Literary prodigy over here.

Last and probably least—nah, I kid—Bryan. Frenchie, we called him. No reason behind it, but he didn't make a lot of sense either way. This was the guy who made the Circle groan daily, all with his crazy-ass jumpy personality and his "tag-you're-it" demeanor. Still, we tolerated him. Naaaaah, in all truth, we wouldn't have been the Circle without Frenchie. He was a nice person at heart: generous, helpful, and pretty good at basketball. That was his realm, and it was there in his scarred knees. Well, he was a skinny sucker. All bones. Wore loose Ts and shorts every day, no matter how cold it was. Actually, Frenchie and I had a lot in common. We both had a thing for comics, which is what he and his buddy Kieran liked to work on in their spare time. Same was true for Tophs and I. All about them comics. I let the cuzzy do most of the creative work.

"Nope. Not started yet," Topher tweeted, a little puff of rosy, honey-scented perfume rolling into my nose. He was looking right at me, so I figured I was being talked about. "You haven't started yet, have you?"

"Probably not," I ventured. Sure, I didn't know the topic, but I knew how do answer. I could hear the smile in Topher's voice anyway. "What though? What're we talking about here? I zoned out."

"The thingy with the English." He chirped back. Now I was catchin' on. Yep, that. See, we had this project for English, and it was due soon, and I didn't start yet. End of story. How about that? Ah, the academic life.

"Yeah, no, that's nowhere." I said, shrugging my shoulders. Apathy in its prime.

"That's due like tomorrow." He whined. Exaggerated, too; tomorrow was Saturday.

"It's okay, you still have a few days," Emi joined in, likely having started the conversation. She did that. Reminded us of assignments. Yeah. It was really bothersome, but we probably needed it. I knew I did. "At least, I think so? I have a different professor than you guys, so I don't know."

"The science fiction fantasy story thing?" I inquired.

"Uh-huh. I'm doing a story that I read over summer." She said, looking real proud. Must've been nice to be prepared.

"Sooooo, how 'bout that? I didn't read nothin'." I huffed.

"You should do the report on Ashy's story! It's, like, perfect." She cooed.

"Oh noooo; don't though," Tophs jumped in, literally speaking, throwing his hands on my leg and leaning himself onto my lap. "Please no?"

"'S not a bad call. That is fantasy, and the comics are pretty good, dude." I teased; of course I wasn't actually gonna do a full whatever-page report on Topher's cute comic fairytale about saving the universe and all that, even if it was actually well written and drawn.

"Nah-ah, they're sucky and kiddy and pleeeeease no?" He asked—no, begged. Freakin'... his face, I swear. He gave me a nose-to-nose puppy-eyed staredown and it was the worst thing ever. "I'll kiss you if you do it." And then it became even worse.

"I'm having to weigh my options, man!" I scrambled back a bit until the back of my head was touching the wall behind me, and, even then, it wasn't enough to escape the explosion of cuteness that my vocabulary tripped over.

"Oh my God, do it." Emi urged, which sucked because Topher loved it when she fangirled; it was like feedback—just this endless loop. What made matters worse is that Pat joined in.

"I need a picture please!" Pat exclaimed—didn't hear her exclaim all that much, so that was worth it.

"Okay, wait," I gulped, looking into the eyes of cute death. "So if—and this is hypothetical—if I end up doing the report on the comic, what exactly is my punishment. If I can call it that."

"Biiiiig smooch right on the lips. Ten seconds! No exceptions!" Cuzzy giggled, disturbingly comfortable with the whole thing. Dammit, this is the sort of thing that he couldn't get enough of. He loved it when my faced turned red and my eyes got all shifty. This was always his gag, too. It was like the dude was programmed to embarrass me and I couldn't get away from it. So, right, I wasn't gay, and, yeah, I wasn't the first guy to admit that Tophs was a good lookin' human being. But tits-all if I was up for frenchin' him! No thanks; I was stickin' to the ladies for now.

"Alright, Tophs, just—could ya maybe dismount me?"

"Dismount!" He laughed with all the triumph in the world. I didn't get what was so funny; it was probably the word choice that tickled him. Well, it worked in my favor, because he rolled right off of me and oriented himself with his soft little head on my shoulder, giggling away. "There. Happy now?"

"Tch," Someone scoffed. Sounded like our jock. I looked over to Al, and yeah, there he was, lookin' over at us like we were bratty kids. "This guy's a mush."

"I'ma plush~!" Tophs came back, closing his eyes tightly and grinning.

"He's a plush mush." Al corrected, arms all crossed like he was better than snuggles.

"Plush mush; say it five times fast. Ready, go!" I prompted quickly, but no one caught on. Actually, Bryan did. He tried to say it quickly, but it sounded like mouth trash after the first attempt. What was mouth trash, you might've asked? Well:

"Plush mush plush mushplshmushsspslbtbsltppltsbtt." Bryan raspberried, I guess, after attempting again. I saw some spit fly out of his mouth. I wasn't aware of rain. Frenchie rain. I sighed, then chuckled a bit to keep myself from looking like I didn't enjoy that.

Nick frowned, taking Frenchie's shirt between two fingers and wiping off his arm. I wasn't an expert, but I'm pretty sure he got Bryan juice on him. I wasn't sure where that mouth's been, so I would've done the same thing. Probably not onto his shirt though, since I also wasn't too sure where the shirt's been.

I, on the other hand, smiled. Everyone was in a pretty good mood today. No one was upset over how unfair their parents were or how depressed they were or whatever it was. It was a drama-free day in the life of 'ol Crucie. I wasn't the type of person to make it all awkward and say how happy I felt aloud. I kept that inside. For some reason, more than ever, I wanted to let it go. Right now. I wanted to tell 'em I was happy to know them, but I couldn't have imagined how weird that would've made me look. Even Topher may have thought me a bit odd to put that out there, and this was the fellow who wore a skirt in public seven times out of ten. Sentimentality was thrown around with actions these days, not words. We were all fine with it. No arguments there.

Man, I tell ya, it was sure tuggin'. There were some strings on my heart and they were being pulled right from my throat. I was becoming too comfortable for comfort. What to do, I wondered? I wrapped an arm around Topher's body, patting his far shoulder. He squeaked and looked at me.

"'Sup. Gonna head over to see Kat." I told him.

"Kat's here?" He queried. I didn't get the confusion. 'Course she was here; she was a student, too. But maybe the alarm came from my initiative. I didn't voluntarily bring myself over there all that often. Kat was a reclusive girl after all. Well, we still made some room for each other, and, hey, I figured if anyone could knock the sentimentality right out of me, it was her. I gave Tophs another pat before inching my shoulder forward, pushing his head from me—not forcefully, just to give him a quick heads up.

"Yeah. Haven't seen her in a while," I said, one palm aiding me to my feet. The small gravel rocks buried into it, stinging briefly. I wiped both hands on my hoodie and the pebbles fell. "I'll be back before the bell."

"Noooo, you can't leave me with them! They'll eat meeee." Topher complained, holding that last vowel for a good three seconds. He pouted, shoving his lower lip forward and grasping one of my wrist with both hands.

"Can't you talk to Zatch or something? I mean he's right there." I smirked, pointing over to Zack's crew. Ah, yeah, them. Friendly guys!

"Zatch and I aren't a thing anymore though." He whined, letting go of my wrist.

"I know. 'S all good. I'll be right back," I reminded him, patting his head and messing up his hair, causing another four seconds of vowel sounds. It was great. "And let 'em know where I'm at if they start freaking out." I instructed, before heading on over yonder to our bros. These guys were all real tight. Two Seniors and two Sophomores liked to hang out with us at lunch every now and then. They weren't really a part of the Circle, but we hung out long enough for us to start talking. They liked to call 'emselves the Square as a sorta gag on how there were four of them and how they thought the Circle was silly. I didn't blame 'em; who named their clique of buddies? Topher, that was who.

"Afternoon, gentlemen!" I greeted them, assigning fist bumps wherever appropriate. First was Zatch, since I knew him alright from the little curiosity he and Tophs shared for a few weeks.

"Hey man, how's it going?" Zatch asked, all laid back like usual. That was a big thing with these four. They all sounded like stoners, I guess except Zack, who always had a nice haircut, a leather jacket, and the cleanest face ever. Handsome Zack, I called 'im.

"I'm all good. Whassup with you fellas?" I asked no one in particular, even though I was still lookin' at Zatch. He was a pretty nice person all around. He didn't look a whole lot like his brother. Brighter hair and eyes with a younger face. Still round, whereas his bro's was all squared off and mature. They didn't dress the same either. Zatch looked a little like Bryan, wearing old T's and cargo shorts.

"Just chillin'. Hey, you got any idea for that project?" Another of them replied. That was Vince. Vince was in that English class with the lot of us, and I'd known him before Metedia. I couldn't remember what his deal was—I think he was a farmer kid or something. I saw him running around the woodland at times. He was a cross-country runner all the same, so it made sense. I don't know. How did cross-country work here?

"Uh, well maybe. I just got an idea for it, but eh. You have somethin'?"

"Ah, for real. Dude, I haven't started on it! I don't have time to," He started. "Yeah like, every time I sit down to think about what I want to do, I get called to help Drew with the farm work."

"What project is this?" Zack asked.

"It's the science fiction fantasy one for English where you gotta read a book and do a report on how it fits literature or something." Vince answered.

"Oh. Y'know, you don't have to actually read a book, right?" He began. I tuned in. He'd done the thing before, so I'd have gathered he was a source of wisdom. "Yeah, ask your teacher. You can just pick a science fiction-related thing or fantasy-related theme and explain how it could be considered literature."

"That's how I passed it." The other Senior finally spoke up. I barely ever heard the guy talk, so it was weird hearing his voice. It was like Pat on a bad day, except it was every day with him. He was Danithan, the guy who was allergic to the sky. He wore shades twenty-four seven for all I knew.

"Yeah, he got like a B and he didn't read anything. He just watched a documentary on something." Zack explained.

"How fitting? Danny B?" Zatch poked, elbowing the quiet Senior in the arm. Danny B—they called 'im that—shrugged.

"Oh shit, I didn't know that." Vince muttered, breaking into a bewildered laugh. He beat me to it, really. We were probably sharing the same breath of relief. I forced myself to break away from the conversation before I got stuck-in. Truth be told, I'd have liked to see Miss Valentine today. I saw them off with a 'good day' as quickly as I'd barged into their lunch. It was too bad. Vince was someone I'd have enjoyed discussing ideas about the project with. Poor guy was up to his neck in work and sport that he didn't get the chance to get everything together.

I carried myself through the outdoor hallways of Metedia, trying not to bump into a slow walker in front of me or a group of students walking in a row of like six. It's not that the school was flooded with people; Metedia was actually kind of small. It's just that everyone knew each other, so there was rarely a rush to get anywhere to see someone. So, my current scenario didn't really agree with the meta of Metedia, so to speak. Hey, the weather was all right and everyone seemed to be at their life high today, so as long as that remained true, I had nothing to complain about. I passed one building, then another, and at last came to a stop at the corner of one of the math buildings. I put a hand over the corner of the building, peek around to see if anyone in particular was sitting by her lonesome on the sidewalk near that tiny grassy knoll that no one wanted to build classrooms on because it was pretty or whatever. Yeah, there she was, sittin' down with her legs stretched out before her, eating her fill.

I smirked all mischievous-like, planting myself right against the wall and shuffling over slowly, probably grabbing a few looks from the folks around, despite Katalyn having like a repulsive bubble. Eventually, I'd shuffled my way to her, standing about a foot from her. I was in the danger zone now.

"What do you want?" Kat hissed, not bothering to show me her vicious, pretty face.

"Easy tiger; it's just Cruce." I assured her, taking a seat next to the Senior.

"I know," She answered, deciding it best to bring a curtain down on the cold shoulder. She looked at me and smirked. Kat was a tough cookie, but she had looks. Her hair was short, black, hugging around her neck. Her eyes, hazel, almost feline. Her nose, a bit pointed down. Her lips were hard of smiling, but they still looked good when they weren't hiding behind that crimson wool scarf of hers. Nice accent to her pale skin and all. Always covered herself up in boots, jeans, and sweaters. "What do you want?" She repeated.

"Would you bite my face if I said I just came to see ya, kitten?" I flinched, because there was a hand smacking me in the arm before I could even finish the last word of that sentence. It wasn't geared to hurt me. She was doing it with a wide smile on her face.

"Come here." She urged, wiping her hands with a napkin, before tossing it onto her wrinkled lunch bag. She urged again with a gesture of her head. I obliged like an idiot! Yeah, she got me with that. She lurched right for my face. I went cross-eyed and saw her nose. I smelled peanut butter, then there was a brief sharp pressure in my nose. The pressure went away, and she leaned back a couple inches so I could actually see her whole face again.

"Ow?" I whispered, a hand over my nose. "You bite."

"I bite hard," She chuckled. "But for you, a little softer." Kat said, leaning in and planting a much softer, much more welcome kiss to my cheek.

"Holy crap," I murmured, shivering at the warm embrace of her lips. There was a puff of her breath against my skin, then she pulled back. I looked at her and she was still smiling. "Who are you and what've you done with Katalyn?"

"Not convinced?" She asked, before punching me in the shoulder. Her knuckle must've slammed right into a nerve, because it was a full-on deadarm. I ground my teeth together and cursed.

"Aahkay, sure. Shit! Too real, Kat. Too real." I uttered, rubbing my shoulder.

"Want me to kiss that too?" She offered, and I was stupid enough to feel obligated to let her, given the warm fluttering in my chest from that earlier kiss. Well, I didn't say anything, but I sure didn't decline it. Instead, she leaned in and there was a sharp, wet pain right in the same damn spot.

"KAT, OW." I laughed, lifting my head. "You were so affectionate and it was amazing! What happened?!"

"What do you mean?" She smiled innocently—hey, there was a word I'd never thought to use around her.

"You're so mean." I pouted right at her, closing my eyes and sticking out my tongue.

"Careful. I'll bite that."

"Mm!" I quickly sealed my tongue away behind my lips and blushed. Damn, woman, you were on fire today, weren't you? I wanted to say that to her, but I was afraid she'd freaking rape me. Nah, I kid. Kat and I were cool around each other. She was tomboyish and kickass and awesome and I loved her. We weren't really dating, but we had a close bond since a while back in our karate class. We took that real seriously, paying our due respects to our master and sparring regularly. Our idea of a date was a day of sparring in one of the old sewer outlets lost in the woodland. It was nice and quiet. Perfect place to spend some time with someone who wasn't all that hot with other folks.

"So what; your friends picking on you?" Kat inquired.

"Not for the most part. Uh, real talk, I've just been feeling kinda huggy-touchy as of late? Maybe you can relate?"

"You couldn't tell?"

"I could." I said, rubbing the spot where she had kissed my cheek. My cheeks were still red.

"Yeah, I'm getting that too. Don't get any ideas."

"It's not about that," I shook my head, trying to get this blush off one way or another. "It's like I need to let everyone around me know how much I... bleeeegh care about them."

"Ugh," Kat gagged, placing a fist to her mouth as if clearing her throat. "Don't do that; I just ate."

"You feel the same though?"

"Yes, I do actually. I wouldn't take it as far as making myself look like a fucking daisy in front of people, but it's there inside of me." She agreed, lifting a knee and leaning back up against the wall. She took a deep breath, but it was quiet. I could only see it in her chest.

"Crazy shit. Make it go away."

"Hah, it'll be harder for you. You got your bubbly cousin. You guys still virgins?"

"Oh don't." I groaned, pulling up my hood over my entire face and keeping it that way. No one was going to see my face anymore. That was it. Until my death, I was going to live my life—couldn't breathe. I pulled the hood back down.

"Don't worry about it. You know, Master told me that these feelings don't come out of nowhere. If you and I are both feeling it, then it's probably best to prepare for something pretty bad. Not sayin' it'll happen, but..." She shrugged her shoulders.

"Hm. Hey, don't get me wrong, I think of Master as like a second dad, but he does say some cheesy things. Like, gouda cheesy."

"You're a dork."

"Thanks." I grinned.

"Mhm. Cruce, I'm not going to tell you how to deal with it. You can burst and hug your friends if you want, or you can keep it all to yourself. If it were me, you know what I'd do. I'm not the best with feelings."

"But-"

"You're different, kitty," She stopped me, giving me her cold, feral gaze. "You and Topher both. By the way, if you tell anyone that I kissed you, I'll skin you and make a scarf out of your pelt."

"Make sure to dye it the right color, or else it'll look like hell."

She laughed. That didn't happen very often, so I just sorta basked in it. She had a nice laugh. It wasn't overly cutesy or loud or annoying. It was genuine and clean, like it begged to escape her and charm others around her. She could be charming if she wanted. She never wanted to though. I was so happy to have her as a friend, 'cause just about everyone else was anything but a friend to her. I didn't want to correct her or tell her that it was wrong to have so few friends, because that would've made me look like a jackass and I'm sure she would've had a few nasty things to say about it. We liked each other because we were comfortable together. I accepted her, respected her, and gave her distance. 'Nough said, really.

Still, I had a clingier personality than Katalyn. Just about anyone did. Mine was developed and nurtured because of my cousin. I regretted not spending more time talking with her about this feeling. It was godawful. She alluded to somethin' our master said a while back. It was about being prepared to deal with the worst of the worst; it was something we could only predict with our spirits and not our minds. I was never to sharp with the mystic proverbs and the chakra-talk, but I still tried my best to take it seriously, and what this meant was to pay my emotional debts pretty damn soon. In the tongue of the common man, like myself, it was just tellin' your peeps you loved 'em, just in case something bad were to happen to you. Nothin' wrong with that; it was the most innocent thing on the planet.

The day went along. After the final bell for the afternoon, we were all free for the weekend. Most of us. I still had a pesky little project to bury myself in. It felt better knowing that Topher and Vince still had a ways to go before they were finished. I didn't wanna pride myself in their pity. For some reason, in this day and age, not writing some words down on paper based on a fantasy idea was pity.

It was somewhere around three thirty. Topher and I dropped by the woodland, backpacks still strapped over our shoulders, weighing us down with what it implied for later tonight. Or tomorrow night. Or Sunday night. Procrastination at its best. Step after step on the dirt road underneath arches of red leaves, Topher enlightened me with his day, every little detail in each of his classes. I was a listener, with the occasional acknowledgment here and there. He told me about his ideas for his comic book and his interactions with peers. It was a nice little melody to make me forget my own dull day. A lot of the time, it left me with the desire to see the world through Topher's eyes. There was a lot more color for him to see, I was sure, to the point of makin' my world look all gray. I couldn't even imagine what the woods around us appeared to him as. For me, our woodland here was a realm of its own locked in twilight. An inferno of leaves clouded the sky above, trees creating a series of autumnal tunnels. A river cut across woodland, meandering from the valley nearby.

The Autumnridge woodland was the heart of the Circle. It was our home. We explored it as children, wrote about it in our comics, and made it our usual spot to hang out. It had a nice surplus of surprises, like Native American monuments and ancient burial sites. That was to say that the woods was a scary place by night. For now, it was an escape. This escape brought us to a fork in the biker trail we had followed all the way here. We heard voices behind the trees. Tophs and I stopped at the fork and noticed that there were tracks in the mud; now, it wasn't a very inviting trail. It looked like the sorta path people weren't supposed to tread, with thickets and shrubbery in the way. But, beyond this crappy little mud trail was our hideout.

"Ladies first?" I instructed, giving a gentle squeeze to the cuzzy's back.

"Thank ya!" He cheered, hopping ahead and then taking the wet mud nice and slow. Tophs didn't even think twice about the comment. Kinda funny. I bent my neck to the side, lowering my head underneath a branch above before stepping forward. The trail curved a full ninety degrees, and then again, before leading us right to one of the most bizarre spots in Autumnridge. It was a small clearing open to the sun and the sky, the trees symmetrical, standing around the area in a large circle like an audience. Within this circle was our own personal Stonehenge. There were twelve slabs of solid obsidian arranged around a much larger, smooth slab of granite. Runic hieroglyphs were etched into the slab long ago, but due to the minimal exposure of wind, they were still as fresh as though drawn yesterday. We never tried to decipher them.

This was the obsidian circle. We didn't know its real name or purpose, but we assumed it to be some former ceremonial area from the Natives that once lived here. There were twelve slabs of obsidian, so it could have been an early clock of sorts. Whatever the case, it served a very important purpose to the Circle.

Tophs and I entered the scene to five sets of eyes. The rest of our gang was here, all sitting on their stones. Al and Nick were right in front, closest to the entrance. Pat and Emi were near one another, and Frenchie was more along on his own, two slabs away from Nick. This was where Tophs and I placed ourselves, letting our scholastic sacks drop into the dirt, crunching leaves beneath. I was sitting beside Frenchie. I leaned closer to see what sort of bunk he was up to. He had a notebook out with a mechanical pencil. On the page, he was sketching a symbol that looked familiar. I turned to the granite slab in the center. The symbol from the page mirrored it.

I had a hard time trying to describe it. It was an isosceles triangle with smaller circles at each point. Around the triangle was an ellipse, and another ellipse around that. Outside of the ellipses, there were hundreds and hundreds of lines that looked like Sanskrit. I knew that wasn't really the case, but it was some ancient language that no one seemed to care enough about to translate or identify. Or maybe it was just a bunch of pretty shapes and scratches in a rock. We got into some discussions about the symbol from time to time, namely the triangle in the center. It was too perfect. Three were no errors. The lines were straight and the circles lacking any irregularity. Tophs found a way to incorporate the symbol into his comics, and I'd imagine Bryan did too. Somehow, I pictured myself in the future with that tattooed to my arm. Just a thought.

My gut started to sting, and not because I ate wrong. I was getting that softy feeling again. I wanted to tell everyone here that I appreciated them being around to give me a good time. I wanted to say it, but I couldn't, because it was so stupid, and it was stupid because they already knew that. They did, didn't they? I didn't need to question it? Man, what the hell was wrong with me today? This didn't strike me as a thing that'd be so hard. All I had to do was make it sound nice and succinct. I didn't need to drag it out or make it dramatic. Just a simple thank you for showin' up, or, 'thank you guys for being chill. You mean a lot to me.' 'Cause they really did.

_ Maybe tomorrow. I'll let them know then._

Our get together was cut short. Al and Emelina had to bounce, and by extension, Pat. I knew Al had practice, and Emelina just liked to follow him around. It was tiring to see Al flake out on us so many times. He never made it when we wanted to go bowling or tag along with the girls, Topher included, for hanging out at the mall. It was all good; he had stuff to do. Hell, we all did. I should've been doing my own part right now instead of sittin' around in a smelly 'ol enchanted forest.

Thirty minutes only gave us enough time to update Facebook, mess with snapchat, and maybe discuss ideas for a fifth of the time we were there. It was the end of the week and people were tired. I could understand. I lifted myself from the slab, throwing my arms up and stretching, groaning loud. I checked my phone. It was five passed four and I had all weekend to show this report who was in charge. Nope. Procrastination had a real greasy way of suckin' the inspiration right out of you.

Tophs and I walked home. We lived on a real quaint street called Orion Avenue. Nice place, lots of trees, friendly neighbors. The American Dream, eh. Mama Janet and Pops Gibsy weren't home yet, so we helped ourselves inside and dropped our stuff off in our room. Cuzzy and I shared a room since the house was pretty cozy small, and he, well, wanted to because he was a creepy sumbitch. Nah, I kid. Well, fine, we did share a bed. But it was large enough for the two of us, EVEN THOUGH he thought it funny to close all the space we COULD have had and CONSTANTLY lay as close as possible to me. I couldn't be mad at him though. I mean, just... that face. Damn him and his face. Fuggin' cuddles.

The room was a surreal place. Half of it was magical, the other have muscly. Tophs had plush toys stacked up in one corner, and I had barbells in the other. He had his own desk for his works, and then we shared another with the desktop. Flat screen, bed, lamp, ceiling fan, closet. It was a bedroom. It did the job. I dropped right onto the bed and Topher sat himself down in his desk chair. Friday, baby. Screw it. It could all wait 'til tomorrow. It was time I got some real R 'n R. I shut my eyes and let my hands meet behind my head.

…

_ Huh. Kind of a horribly normal day, wasn't it?_

_ So why'm I still feeling like I need to let the world know I care?_

_Is there something wrong with me? _

…There was some shuffling somewhere. I was moving, but everything was quiet and dark.

_Kat, you got it as well?_

_ I wonder if Tophs is feeling the same way. He'd vent. I know that._

_ Maybe he would've already._

…

I woke up.

Topher was at his desk. I heard the scratching of pencil against paper.

I was covered in blankets, but I didn't remember tucking myself in.

The sun was gone. I reached straight up and pulled the blinds forward to get a clearer view of the window above. There were stars.

When I stared long enough...

Some of them were...

Darting by.

My eyes grew heavy again.

But I didn't want to sleep.

Sleep... Sleep?

Why was that word so damn sad?

Didn't make much sense if you asked me.

I sat up and the bed squeaked.

"Oh! Good, you're not dead!" Tophs rang loud. Gah, his voice was a headache waiting to stab me in the temples. I felt as horrible as I must've looked, and he was looking right at me looking all cute and perfect, smelling like fruit. "Thought you might've hit your head somewhere 'n slipped into a coma."

"Fun," I moaned, holding back a yawn. I pressed a palm against my forehead. "Does feel like I hit my head. What, I slept that long?"

"Yeah, you really conked right out. You fell asleep three hours ago? Three and a half? Can't remember. I'm not even sure how you napped that long."

"That sucks." I rubbed my eyes and gave a blurry glance to the clock at our nightstand. Eight thirty-six. I wasn't even tired, yet I managed to catch an extra three hours of snooze.

"Mhmm, good luck sleeping through the night. Maybe take something to help you sleep." He informed, spinning around in the chair and heading right back to work on his comics, his hair flicking like a golden whip. He was into that—like, _into_ his stuff today.

"And then I gotta put up with your shuffling and belly dancing in bed." I scoffed, keeping an eye on the clock, and what felt like another on the sky, trying to catch a fleeting glimpse of any falling stars. I didn't know we were divin' through a meteor shower. Those were my jam. This one was poppin', too! The whole sky was lighting up. Man, did somebody drug me? What's been with me today?

I smirked. Crazy night, I thought. Well, not crazy, but so dull that it was crazy. Man, eight thirty-six. I just kept looking at that until it changed. I didn't wanna see those numbers anymore. They really drained the life out of the rest of my Friday. Get out of here, vampire clock.

The numbers changed. I shivered, and my head spiked with enough pain to get a grunt out of me. The numbers were three sixty. Three. Six. Zero. Again, I pushed my hand to my head. I squeezed my skull and my eyes stung, my ears rung, my heart raced. There was a loud buzzing sound coming from the clock. It was deafening at first, but the sound became quieter, like water flushing into my ears.

"Cruce?" Topher spun around. "What'd you do?"

"N-nothing. I didn't even touch it. It's broken." I stammered, all of my senses pulsing with my heartbeat.

"Three... Sixty..." Topher relayed blankly, reading the digital number as it appeared. The air was stiff and the alarm wouldn't stop, but it kept getting quieter.

Then the sky cracked open.

The stars exploded. At first, there was a deep bang, then a loud smack nearby. More of a crack, a hammering of rock against rock. The noises stopped. There was no more alarm, no more blurring pain, no more slogging heartbeat. I pulled up the blinds again and looked into the backyard. Lights were flickering like flames, but there was no fire. Instead, there was a radiance coming from something as large around as my fist. I smacked my tongue. Something exciting? Sure, why not, let's give it a look.

I swung my legs off of the bed and led my body forward, hitting the floor running. Topher questioned me. I heard the chair squeak loudly behind me.

I ran to the kitchen, unlocked the sliding glass door, and pulled it away from its hinges. The screen door came next. There were footsteps behind me, bare feet slapping against kitchen linoleum.

When I stepped outside, the cold bit into my bones. I noticed Topher standing at the other side of the sliding door. I waved him over with a smile on my face. Nothin' to be afraid of, Cuzzy! Hoping he mustered up the bravado to chase after me some more, I ran through the backyard patio and onto the grass, the cool blades tickling my feet through my socks. The closer I got to the light, the warmer the ground became. At the same time, the closer I got, the more the light dimmed. I made a goal for myself to reach this sucker before its light went out. I almost dove right at it, but I thought it best to take things nice and easy. I leaned down to get a closer look at it. It was a rock, but it looked smooth and crystalline. The light was trying to escape into the translucent crystal. I reached for it.

I touched the rock, crystal, star—whatever it was. Its surface was warm, not hot. It was deceptively jagged in spots. I shuddered, startled when a second hand came right over mine. The hand was Topher's. He was crouching beside me.

"Maybe best not to pick up meteorites right away?" He inquired, with a sugary, nervous smile on his face. I smiled back, but the smile faded as quickly as it came. I became as stiff as stone. The light in the rock was gone now. Everything but my eyes was locked in place, and as still as I felt, it still seemed like I was moving too fast for the world. I could hear Topher's voice calling my name over and over, but with no way to respond, I could only flick my eyes back and forth as acknowledgment. Still, he acted like there was nothing left of me, like I was limp and helpless. Dead in his arms. I felt awake, but my senses were betraying me, telling me that his voice was becoming someone else's, that my arms and my legs were becoming something else's, that this world was... becoming... something else. The ground and the stone turned dark. Topher turned dark. Everything was muffled over and over again.

...

But...

I heard a hello.

It was peaceful and lax, a rainbow sound.

And it brought me back.

…

_ But... This doesn't feel right._

_ I was dying._

_But I'm alive._

…

"Cruce?! Cruce!" Topher rallied and echoed, his voice and his face coming into focus altogether. He became a puzzle, lining up, all the gaps filling in, until he was just right and there were no more cracks, no more lines. "What's wrong with you?!"

"Shh, God, don't wake everyone up." I pleaded, only just now realizing that I was laying on the grass. No, there was something else underneath me. Topher's arms. I couldn't mistake 'em. Nothing else was that soft, right? He was cradling me. Shit, did I fall over?

"Why would you do that?! You scared the hell out of me! Don't do that!" He barked. Oh, he was boiling. This was a rare sight. The way the corners of his lips were pulled inward, making his mouth seem all small. He was right on fire.

"You're right. I'm sorry; I must've gotten a head rush or something. Got up so suddenly from bed, y'know?" I told him. I knew that wasn't it. Anyone in their right mind should've. It didn't look like Tophs was seated to comfortably in his right mind.

"Head rush?! Really?! You think I-" I put a hand against his mouth.

"Dude, it's all good. Really. I overdid it after sleeping forever." I asserted, watching how slowly my tone managed to change the girly boy's jawline. I left the palm there for long enough 'til I was convinced I didn't need to hear that horrible screeching sound that was Hulk Topher.

"You didn't get a head rush." He suspected, his voice nice and quiet now. Awesome. He was still frantic. I could see that in his breath.

"Not sure what else it was then. It's okay, this happens at karate class when you don't regulate your breathing and stuff. Same thing, 'cept... just don't worry. Everything's going to be okay. Go let Janet and Gibsy know I'm ace." I advised, making a quick motion of my head toward the house. Tophs was still shaky. He wasn't the best with these situations, but neither was I. I tended to operate better when I was the one with the ailment. About as delicately as achievable, Tophs let me down in the grass. I couldn't feel the rock anywhere. There were some miscellaneous rocks jobbing into my back. They could've been shards of the thing. That was a nice little thought after going through that haze of death the star-thing caused me. Anyway, Tophs was off, probably double-taking at me once more before getting inside. I wasn't trying to shoo him away; I didn't want him to over think the scene or worry himself into a panic attack. Anxiety issues plagued him.

Well, I didn't wanna lie, being on my own for this holy little time was a godsend. I still couldn't escape the chains of the headache. It was a nauseating headache, too. It hit me in more spots than one.

I took a deep breath. It reminded me of Katalyn, with the way her chest pushed out, then retreated, all in one gentle frame. I brought myself to sit up. In my peripherals, I noticed a faint glow beside me. The rock was there, laying in the grass I was moments prior. Its color was different. I... didn't recognize that color. It looked magnificent and everything, but...

The bigger worry was the boy standing a few feet in front of me.

I watched him stand there. He looked so... zero. I dunno. Zero. There was nothing about this boy that existed. He had a face, but it may as well have not been there, since there was nothing to it. He had a pair of arms and legs, a head and a torso. Hair and everything. But it belonged to a shell. He looked familiar. His name was nowhere to be found. He stepped closer and left me to wonder how he could, because a boy with nothing deep inside should've had no muscle and sinew to move.

"Cr-" He clicked. "Cru-" He attempted again. "...ce." He succeeded, his voice as devoid of humanity as his face. I leaned forward and crossed my legs, both hands on my knees.

"Hello there? What's up with you, kiddo?" I asked him nice and softly. I was getting some ghastly vibes from the boy, so the best place to start was as politely as I could for someone who'd just been thrown unconscious by a space pebble.

"I..." He began, his movements like syrup. Eventually, he conjured the ability to do what it was that I was doing, sitting right in front of me with his legs criss-crossed all kiddish-like, hands in his lap. He looked at me, no, through me. "...Am... Laz... a..."

"Come again, little guy? I didn't hear ya."

"Be...ca... use... my na... me... is... Lazareon." He spoke, a glint of red piercing through my skull, my mind, my spirit. I furrowed my eyebrows and blinked and the boy was as good as gone.

Oh no. He wasn't gone. My stomach growled. My head pounded. My heart stopped.

"Ah... I'm... definitely not okay, Tophs." I whimpered, the flow of blood in my body freezing, my marrow liquefying. Everything was wrong with my body. My spine was threatening to snap. My mind was being s-...s-STABBED.

My eyes were BURNING. I tried to stand, and though I accomplished that much, I felt ready to collapse again. Again, I wondered. How could a little pebble have made me so fatigued? No, it wasn't just fatigue. I was all manner of jacked up, and it was hitting me harder than the last time. I gave a good effort to stand up, and while I managed, I had my laments. Every movement was pulling me apart, screaming at me to stay as still as a statue. My legs couldn't handle the punishment. I fell forward once they gave in, feeling absent from my being. My arms still worked, so I put them ahead of me and caught my fall. I was still on the grass. The world was swaying back and forth, to and fro, up and down. My mind was melting in two directions. It felt like it was going to ooze out of my ears, but it stopped.

Then I saw it all.

I saw someone's face. He looked like me, but it was chalky and reptilian. His face told me everything but his name. He was cloaked in my hoodie, albeit torn, and bruised and bloody. He was floating, deceased. His eyes were closed, but I didn't need to see them to know about who was behind them. I... forced myself to look away, only turning my gaze to the cold grass below. Hands and knees, I was being pushed from all directions, collapsing and compressing into myself, corporeal suffocation, taking me from where I am to where his face told me I belonged.

"Ss... stop...!" I pleaded, digging into the soil with aching fingers and crackling carpals. No one answered me. I looked forward and the doppelganger was gone, but the patio was crawling away from me. My hoodie felt loose, and my jeans looser. I cursed at whatever anything was to stop this. I cursed again. There was no mercy. I was being crunched alive, my mind trying to flee itself all the while. Part of me wanted to laugh, but the other half was too busy gasping for air. It felt like I was two.

I'm not gonna be myself after this, I thought.

I was crossing over now. My hands weren't hands anymore. They were stubs, and my arms were much smaller, adorn with a bright pink fuzz. The fuzz grew a little fluffier before a distinction developed at the end. The stub, formerly my hand, was white, set apart from the pink. The other arm felt the same change, before both disappeared into my sleeves. My clothing became itchy against my skin. No, it wasn't skin, it was something softer. My sleeves gave me the same problem in regards to my arms. Was it fur? I wasn't sure how I made room for curiosity in the burning midst of my contortion. I threw my jacket from my chest, and with it my shirt, desperate to rid myself of the itching. It was amplified by the pain, set a hundred times worse with every tingle and pinch. Every tick and scritch and touch pressured my skeleton. I was seconds short of falling to pieces.

My torso was free of clothing, chest only inches from the ground. The ground was coming closer to me. Both of my hands were gone, but I still had arms. Those arms were as pink as the tufts of fluff around my neck and those flaring from my shoulders. My ears stung as if being pulled, my hair weightless until the stinging stopped, and it felt like all of the sound in the world entered me through that hair. But that wasn't right. Those were still my ears up there. They were drooping forward, protecting something inside; what that something was must have been my brain. It kept the rest of it from leaking out of my head. My thoughts were threefold now. I couldn't explain it. I thought thrice. I could see every dimension moving more slowly. I discriminated particles. Everything was analyzed three times over, sensed once, twice, for a third time for good measure. I tried to lift an arm to my head. My hair felt different. It felt fluffier. It was mingling with the rest of my face, my nose having pushed itself into my skull even though it was still there, lips too small to shout, my eyes shut, afire. There were no more bindings around my legs and feet. I must've crawled out of them. I felt cold slivers of grass brush across my chest—the pink fur on my chest.

The next time I opened my eyes, they felt different. They were rounder, brighter, albeit full of darkness. I still saw shapes and color. I saw them better than ever, but that may have been because I was so much closer to them. I could touch them with my thoughts, every line and curve and corner. I could reach everything. I reached forward with my right arm, now too short to be of use, but it was still mine somehow, as deformed as it was. I pulled myself onto the patio concrete, looked over my shoulder, and saw nothing but pink fur, a fluffy tuft where my spine ended, and a few dreadfully stubby legs that barely sprouted inches from my waist. They gave my paws credit in their appearance... Uhm...

Well I...

I just wallowed there in open-mouthed anguish, looking back at this thing. This thing was me! I moved its legs and its tail and its hips and chest and arms. I moved everything about this creature. I thought like this creature, but I still held onto myself pretty well. I remembered everything, especially those two faces—the boy and my duplicate. No, he... he wasn't my duplicate anymore. He was the only human me. Was he human? Who was he? Who was I supposed to be? _What even_? I crawled away from the hoodie and the jeans and the socks all discarded into dirt. I reached the patio and crossed my arms over it, laying my head over them and giving myself time—all I needed was time. I needed a few deep breaths and a minute or two. It felt good to rest my head. I laid on my face because, for some reason, I was too afraid to mess with my ears. I didn't want my mind to escape them. It didn't make any sense. Nothing made sense. But it was so warm. My sense was so warm... It made me want to lay here. All the pain went away. I was to lay here. That was all. Lemme lay here...

"Wait, WHAT?!" I snapped, throwing my head back and staring ahead. "You wanna run that by me again real quick, universe?! What happened to me?!" I cried, looking left, looking right, trying to look beyond my voice. It was so kiddish. I sounded like a seven-year-old again. Giving the world a puny growl, I got to my feet, wobbled some, and fell backwards. I was small, so the fall felt like landing in a pile of pillows, 'specially given all of the fluff. Limbs splayed, I grimaced into the sky and blushed. "No! Oohoho no! This is bad. This is REALLY bad. Oh my God, everything is terrible. Y-YOU!" I flopped around, scuttling back over to the crystal-rock-thing. It looked a helluva lot bigger, but that's because I was the size of a kitten—I think I _was_ a kitten. I grabbed the rock in both paws and shook it around like it was alive and like it could feel me shaking it around—yeah it probably didn't. "What did you do to me?" I mewed hoarsely, frenzied and desperate to get back into my skin. The reflection didn't help. The rock was clear enough to show me a faint, distorted shape of my new face, fangs in my open mouth, a tiny nose in the middle of my pink face, and these creepy marble eyes. Dammit, man, I liked my other eyes!

That wasn't the end of it. My ears really were folded over. I was tempted to pull them back to see if I was bleeding up there or maybe some of my brain matter actually did squeeze out of my head. It sounded pretty morbid, but nothing hurt anymore. Everything was still a smidgen fuzzy. My hair was still messy like it normally was, but it was a part of my, uh, fur now. Ughhh why pink? Really? Turn me back, you freakin' alien artifact thing!

Wait.

I lifted my head and, appropriately, felt one of my eyes twitch half shut.

"This changes everything." I whispered to myself, even though, somehow, I knew exactly who was standing behind me. I swallowed spit.

"Cru-Cruce...?" Topher mewled. I kept the rock in my paws and turned to look at him. He was confounded, one hand encroaching upon his mouth, the other attempting to reach out to me, despite his distance of a couple meters. Well, what could I tell him? There weren't a big number of words created for this sort of thing. I watched him for a little. He didn't move. He wanted to hear something out of me. So be it, then.

"I'm sorry." I told him.

That was all I had for Tophs. Shame. He gave me so much more, and in the end, I just threw a crappy little apology right at his face. That itself deserved an apology. Well, at least I wasn't dead. Could've died, right? We all could've.

Where was logic at today?

-Espurr (Shiny)

...

I was waiting for something that, whatever its outcome may have been, would most certainly be my fault. I was an idiot. Dad told us to stay inside, but honestly, what was I supposed to do? The thing crashed into our ranch, luckily with no explosion in tow. I'm sure Drew would have discovered it the next morning and done something stupid still. No, no, I was thinking too much. I was here. I was in the now. Right now, all I had to distract myself from keeping that train of horrible thought were the frequent sounds of the old man across from me coughing up something of a storm. Otherwise, it was pretty dreary in the infirmary. What was really stirring silent energy into the infirmary air was my mother's paranoia. She was sitting beside me, a look of sheer disbelief in her hazel eyes. She was frozen, at least until the rather large—I assumed it was for those bound to wheelchairs—doors to the patients' rooms swung open, a man, dressed in the typical doctor's garb of a white coat and other devices I couldn't name, entering the room with a clipboard under his right arm. My mother stood up, now facing this man. He was tall, white-haired, and hidden behind his glasses. We knew him as Doctor O'Brien, the expert surgeon and medical scientist. I recalled this being doctor who took my little brother into the back rooms.

"Miss Maire," The coated old man spoke my mother's last name. She was married, but that really didn't matter to his cold voice. "I think you need to come and see this for yourself. I am not sure what else to say. Please, come this way." With that, he faced away from the lobby, my mother following soon after him. One hand was secured over her mouth. The other had tapped me on the shoulder. I assumed that meant I was to stay close behind. I was about to see my little brother again. Had he just slipped into a coma on contact with the thing? I mean, that's what it looked like. It made no sense, but I guess we were lucky the rock didn't hit him on the head. It would've been worse if the thing engulfed our town in an eruption. While that was an impossibility of the past, I was still worried. Thoughts raced through my head like a swarm of jets—a deafening roar of engines obscuring all rationality. The sooner we got through these lifeless, white corridors, the sooner I'd calm down. Though, I might have just lied to myself there.

The doctor held a door open for the two of us. I made sure to thank him, whilst my mom's hand was still over her mouth. Her focus froze upon that cliché hospital sight. A fancy heart rate monitor was beeping. There were about half a dozen mechanisms in the room that I didn't care about. I stopped at one side of the hospital bed, my mother the opposite. The doctor loomed over me from behind. All three of us were speechless, examining my unconscious, little brother. His face was pale like chalk, and he looked cold. His golden hair was crisp, like ice had formed on it, its sheen dying. The doctor spoke before too long.

"Above the bed here is a screen showing his brainwave activity," O'Brien kindly briefed. I had no idea what that device was. It wasn't a CT scanner; those were outdated. I didn't even know that kind of thing existed in these rooms, but I assumed technology was still advancing. I was a suburban kid. A lot of that eluded me, despite being born and raised in the Golden State, where some of the biggest tech institutions were situated nowadays. "We have had this machine examined thoroughly. It is operating optimally. As you can see, there are two lines," He paused, pointing out the two distinct lines making their way haphazardly across the screen. "That is impossible. The existence of a second set of brainwaves suggests he has a second brain." He kept speaking, but everything became a blur after the concept of a second brain.

A quick moment of incredulous looks separated us from truth and fiction. I was glancing back and forth between the brainwaves and my brother. A second brain? How? Where?

"Based on the activity of his second brain, if it is there," The doctor paused once more, pointing at the lower, more disarrayed line on the screen. "It is a number of electrical waves that do not belong in his body. Yet, he is surviving. I have never seen, nor have I heard, this in my career or life. It is fascinating."

I could tell my mother was skeptical, while I myself was more unnerved by the doctor's intrigue. Mom was not an easy woman easy to fool. And the idea of a second brain was ludicrous. She shook her head, giving the doctor a sort of "are you insane?" look.

"You're honestly suggesting he is growing another brain?"

"It is either that or his brain is producing two entirely separate _types_ of waves. As you can see, the waves are in no way the same. Either way, the amount of electrical waves inside your son's body have locked him into a coma. The functions of his organs are starting to fail. We're going to require your decision. Do you want us to put Drew on life support?"

"What else can we do?" Mom answered rhetorically, giving it no thought. She wanted dearly to keep her son, my brother, alive. I wanted it too, but was this torture for him? What if he was stuck in some sort of nightmare? What if he was begging to just escape? I... yawned. It was almost midnight. I hadn't slept, and, as a busy teenaged farm boy I wasn't the most responsible sleeper in any case. Though, I felt bad. I didn't want to look like I was bored. I wasn't. I was terrified.

I wouldn't be out of my right mind to say that it wasn't an easy night. I had absolutely zero hours, zero minutes, and maybe five seconds of sleep. I stayed at the hospital; in that room watching my little brother, holding his hand as he was hooked up to all sorts of machines. I watched over him without budging, with some fantasy running through my head, mocking me with the falsehood of his awakening. Upon using the bathroom about three times that night, or morning, really (and mostly out of anxiety or the thought that I'd been contributing nothing to my brother's condition), I had to splash my face with the freezing water just to keep my eyes open. More than halfway, at that. Each time I returned to that room, I was so expecting Drew to be sitting up, a dumb look plastered on his face. He'd see me walk in and holler my name before asking me where he was and what was going on. Maybe it was silly to someone else, but the thought of it was beautiful. And that made it worse. I stop paying attention to the time after I made out a bit of blue in the sky. I knew it was about five in the morning or something. I wasn't sure when the sun started rising, but I had a vague feeling it was around that time. It didn't matter. The only thing I wanted to rise was my brother. And I don't mean it in the "soul" perspective, if that wasn't vague. Yeah, screw it; I was tired.

Fingers pressing into heavy eyes, I sighed. What made this worse was that, as soon as I got home, I would have had to help Dad with the farm. Us farm kids were supposed to wake up early and all, but I was a bit of a rebel. I slept in later than you could have imagined on weekends, which made up for my huge loss of sleep on the weekdays. It was a busy schedule. I was unmistakably under pressure every moment, save the weekends. No, strike that. I had projects for school. I had one coming up. It was due this Monday, and it was already Friday. Well, it was the worst Friday of my life. I was nowhere on that English project, and my brother was probably going to be killed. Sometimes I wonder how I hadn't been driven insane a while ago. I imagined cross-country took care of that. Running always calmed me down. I enjoyed jogging around the acres of our farmland with our welsh corgi Zig-Zag. Drew always tried to keep up with me. He'd run out of stamina pretty fast, let me tell you. It's only because he wasn't trained like I was. I had practiced to maintain myself while running. But that didn't apply for everything in life. And it really was all breaking down here.

_I'm so sorry, little brother.  
><em>

_ I'm hoping you're having a sweet dream. Of us laying in the hammocks near one another and watching the stars roll on in the black, velvet sky.  
><em>

_ Or the clouds, in the blue beyond._

Or maybe you were too distracted with that silly little game you played on that hand-held system of yours. It was the one with the creatures you had to train, fighting with them against other trainers and ultimately reaching the championship or whatever-the-hell. I didn't get it, but I guessed it was really simple. Recently, a new one came out. Drew was all over that. It might have been stupid to be thinking of childish games at this time, but really, it put a grin on my face. I think I'd play that game too if I had the time. I was always up to my damn neck in work.

_So, let me elaborate. I hope you're having a sweet dream where you can catch all of those little monsters and fight your way to the top._

Sure enough, having been driven home by Mom, I was asked to do one little task around the farm, which evolved into two tasks, and then so on. I honestly didn't care that I was tired. I was too distracted with so much mental torture that, really, keeping me away from my own thoughts was a pretty respectable stratagem.

The tasks involved the usual Friday routine: picking up the horse shit and making sure all of the animals had food and water. Obviously, a lot of them didn't, as it was the end of the week. I refilled stuff. They had their fuel. I didn't. I wanted to collapse in bed and cry. Little did I realize that I was crying at that moment. The tears occurred, as if they had a mind of their own. That concept brought me back to the idea of two brains, and, from there, it was probably pretty easy to imagine where it went.

I ignored my father, dashing into our fairly large two-story house and heading for the second floor. I averted my attention from my brother's room, slammed my door behind me, and fell to my knees in front of my bed, my face planted firmly into the messy, unmade covers. Those were my plans for the weekend.

And little did I expect anyone to come in and comfort me. My mother didn't to speak to me. Father barely looked me in the eyes. And something I forgot to mention was the rock. I saw the rock. No one touched it. Not even the animals, thankfully. That goddamn meteorite was still there.

The monster that ruined my little brother was still here.

To think that, one week ago, I was laughing. Yesterday, I was laughing. Earlier today, I was laughing. But it was all gone.

Just today...


	2. Don't Go

**_Chapter 2: Don't Go_**

**_Note:_**_ Apparently this one's going onto FA before DA! FADA. Right, anyway, yeah. I was going to put this up on DeviantArt first, but I'll get around to that a bit later. For now, it's gonna hang out on this site. As the title suggests, this one's a bit of an emotional battle. WHY, WHAT ELSE IS NEW~? It also includes Vince's perspective as it appears in the original Endemic. The original perspective is nearly identical to the second chapter of Endemic, but I **HIGHLY ENCOURAGE READERS to reread it in Re-Endemic. There are some key differences in Vince's perspective.**_

_I'm also going to start topping chapters off with a **Characters Involved** list, so that people can know what they're getting into without too much spoilers. The same's going down for Epidemic as well. This just means that I'll be listing the characters that make a physical appearance in the chapter. It doesn't include characters that are just mentioned!_

_**Characters Involved: **Cruce, Topher, Celebi, Vince, Xima_

**_Copy-Paste Disclaimer time! I don't own Pokémon!_**

* * *

><p>Logic was away and it didn't even let me in on a rain check.<p>

So I just went right ahead and stepped back from the whole picture. I would've gone as far as saying I went right out of the frame. I was broken and there was not enough of me left to be fixed. I was tiny, insignificant, and above all, a freakin' embarrassment. Could've figured that first one to check me out in my new low was the one guy who knew how to throw red on my face better than any other.

Out in the backyard, I had Tophs here. He was staring at, probs up all in his head thinkin' I was some freak. He wasn't short of being wrong. I knew how I looked now; I looked like a pipsqueak cat from the moon or something straight out of the internet, maybe a cartoon. He came up to me, then got to his knees with his palms right on the front of his legs. He leaned in. I could smell him much better. I could smell things about him that I didn't know were there. That wasn't to say that they smelled bad. He smelled good. He had like two perfumes on, shampooed hair, a lovely little floral lotion on his girly noodle arms. All that was nice, but there were three other smells that he had. He had the smell of a 'person'. He 'was'. I could also smell what he could see—now, not like vision or anything. It was what he was about to see—no, maybe it was 'think'. I could smell his mind. It was a cute one. And through all of this overzealous smelling, I found myself looking at him with not a smile on my face, a sound to my eyes, or a color to my being. No color but pink fur, I meant. That was me now.

I analyzed his position. Topher and I had a similar approach to how we talked with little kids, or, in this case, anyone physically smaller than us. We got down to their level. There was something a whole lot different about the way he was looking at me. He wasn't. He was looking through me. It was as if I wasn't there in front of him. There was no child to appease or acknowledge.

I could only mumble some kind of questioning noise to that body language which sounded like a meow. I could still speak, mind you, I just kind of didn't want to, especially after he didn't react to my apology. Topher's head told me everything his eyes did. He was shaken. He told me a lot of things, but the one that I took note of above all else was his horror. The dark of night must have influenced his attention to the faint glowing stone in my paws. No. He wasn't looking at that either. He was looking at something that was right on me. Right in me? Right around me? I reciprocated the idea with an action. I looked to my left, then to my right, and finally to my feet. What was it? Where was it? It must have been behind me. He had already transcended that by the time I'd figured it out. He crawled forward and I flinched. We were bound to bump heads, but we never did. We never touched, but he was so warm. He tore right through me like a ghost, his scent like a heavy, burning gale ripping through my heart, grasping and tugging it out the other end when he left my bodiless, soul-filled mind. I gasped and my chest still sunk inward. The body felt like it was still there, but I heard the haunting wash of my own fur trail off into light behind me as Topher escaped my backside, whimpering into the night, crying my name.

He never heard me tell him that I was sorry. My broken wholesomeness was crying itself out of my heart. Topher, it's me, it said. Tophs, I'm right here! Everything's all good, dude! Where are you going? When he left this body, I turned around. His palms were in the grass and he was hunched over, the golden hair hanging in front of his shoulders, only inches above a spiritless body, clothed and sleeping. It belonged to a boy who looked a lot like me, but I couldn't see much with Topher right in the way. My paws felt empty. I looked back at them and the strange stone was gone, having vaporized into a hazy oblivion before my even emptier eyes. It lifted itself away. I hung my head steady amidst hopeless disarray, my ears occupied with several attempts to awaken me. I heard my name over and over, and I wanted to answer back. Every cry felt like cinder blocks and needles, tacs and anvils, mechanical pencils and drawings, every color of every bone in his body and every shade of his skin—I shook my head.

"Topher?" I began, gazing upon that terrible sight. It was cinematic. He was crying now, shaking the boy's legs. The way the denim of the jeans straightened out told me that he was pulling the body, trying to get its attention. There was no way that body could respond without me. I knew it couldn't, standing in third person, watching a dream. "Topher?" I echoed, walking around the distraught cousin, at first looking into his face, threatened by tears. I turned to the body. The Body. Me. It was the physical anchor I had to this world, spirit relinquished.

"Wake up. Please, wake up. Why aren't you waking up?!" he broke, shaking the legs, the Body responding with nothing at all. "Cruce!? Stop doing that! Wake up, wake up, WAKE UP!" he yelled, tugging with each demand, his gentle hands crawling onto what would have been my arms. His lips quivered. A single tear finally stained his cheek, his body paralyzed with terror. He sniffed once. I tried to touch his side. Apart from any movement being just a little bit more difficult, there was no reciprocity, no touchdown, nothing for him to ever notice me. I kept trying, but my paw never made contact with the skin or the fabric.

"Tophs, I'm right here," I mewled, denying that impossibility made a reality, made into a ghost of its former self. I wanted him to turn around. I wanted him to look at me. I heard my own voice, so why didn't he? Why couldn't you hear me? "Topher, look at me? Next to you? I'm Cruce. I'm right... right here..." I repeated, growing further detached from the five senses that became stranger than fiction. He didn't even react. To have someone ignore you without even knowing they're doing so was lower than pain. It was so much lower than any harm. To have that person be the one who always listened to me and smiled at me and hugged me made the harm feel more like a casket, still warm, but losing heat fast.

He laid his head down on the shell's chest and cried. I saw his head lift, then sink, then lift again. That shell was still breathing, but the breaths were out of sync with Topher's, out of touch with the gravity of the world, distant from my own phantom sighs. There was nowhere to go. I could have left him to cry, but I didn't want to be a ghost in the dark, alone, with no one there to make light of the shadows. The only light I had was from my other half, crying into a broken frame. The other option I had was to watch and listen to that poor kid, while I could have yelled and screamed and kicked all I wanted. Nothing would have happened.

It was a perfect nightmare.

My parents came out to answer the bawling Topher, empathy escaping their chests, mouths, and eyes. I heard them ask "Why?" and "How?" so many times. Why? How? Why? WHY?! WHY?!

WHY WHY WHY?!

My father lifted the Body. My mother had her hand on its arm. Topher had his hands busy with the tears in his eyes. They took the shell away, leaving nothing behind but matted grass and a glowing rock that dazed me, fooled me, left me lost, wandering nowhere. I dropped before it, paws pushing the upper half of my tiny body off of the grass. I glared at it, growled at it, yelled at it.

I shouted. I shouted, and I shook the unborn tears from my face. I gave that face to the rock, thrusting my forehead against it, closing my eyes, squeezing against its sharp surface. It was still there. It still felt me, so I pushed against it until it hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It HURT. So much.

_Please, stop..._

_ It hurts._

…

I was taken away. I was still alive, but I was treated like a corpse. No, Topher, I wasn't dead. Don't cry, Topher. Don't cry for me. I was right there. I was right by you. I was always right by you. Everything's going to be okay, remember?

"Somebody, please. Help me," I cried. "Somebody, please... Put me back. Help... help... help... me..."

…

The rock was the only thing that gave me warmth. I slept there, alone, curled around it, the only solace I had left. I couldn't stop crying. I bit my lip over and over to get me to stop, but it only got worse. There were sirens and voices for minutes, and then minutes became an hour, then sirens and voices became crickets and wind.

_ Let me sleep. I want to wake up, so that this can be over._

_ Whoever did this to me, just... let me sleep. Let me sleep, then give me back. I want to live. I don't want to be this way. I don't want to be a ghost. Don't take my life away from me. Please. _

There were times where the moon skipped across the sky.

The moon was painted to the same canvas that the sky was.

There was a time where the sky became bluer, bluer, bluer.

Between all of these fragments, I saw Topher's face, Mom and Pop, the Circle. They were talking, but nothing was coming out of their lips, and I couldn't read lips very well, so...

I was pretty lost...

Topher looked like he was having fun. He was laughing with everyone else. Katalyn was with him, and she was laughing, too. It was such a nice laugh. So rare, but so nice. I didn't need to hear the laugh. I just needed to see it. I needed to know that it was happening. It was bittersweet, the world around me spinning away, without me there.

But I'll catch up.

…

My sight met soil and grass, bright enough to be dazzled no longer by the alien rock I adopted as a pillow. When I lifted my head, it wasn't by my own choice. There was a presence. That presence swiped the rock out from underneath my cheek, causing me to fall into the grass. Half clinging to unconsciousness, I meeped, uncurling, finding every movement I made to be different, stubbier somehow, with quicker response time. My arms and legs didn't move as far from my body as they used to, and there was some fifth thing hanging from my spine. I wriggled, trying to break from the dizzy spell of that in-between phase; I wanted to wake up.

There was a smell, strong like perfume, but sour to my nose. It was something artificial, but beyond what I could recognize, somewhere between smoke and rainwater.

"Would you believe how long it's been?!" the lady spoke, accenting her voice with a brief giggle. There was a light smack, then another, then another, like she was tossing something up and down, catching it over and over again.

"Mmnh?" I groaned, searching for the origin of the woman's voice. She didn't sound very old, but the regal manner in which she spoke made her sound more mature than me. I didn't need to look at her to induce that she was anything human. Her aura wasn't quite as there as a human's. I rolled over to my back and looked up into the eastern sun, squinting. There was a silhouette outlined in bright blue, eyes sharp and goldenrod.

"Well, it hasn't been that long, really, but it certainly feels that way," she corrected herself, tilting her head to one side, the bright gold eyes becoming sealed shut behind elegant eyelids, her color fixing itself into place. One hand on her hip, the other occupied with the rock from space, tossing it, catching it, tossing it, catching it, like it was a toy. She had a fan of three tails behind her, large and curled at their ends. Between two large ears, folded over as mine were, was a tuft of fur, blue and curled, a short hairstyle. Beneath her feline face was a thick, blue scarf, part of her, flowing into her tails. Her arms were narrow, fingertips pointy. At her hands and legs, she was blue. Elsewhere, her fur was pearly, glossed with the sunlight. The fur at her waist was shaped like packed, long spikes, flowing gracefully, creating the illusion of a skirt. Her feet were barren of toes, rather shaped like small paws. She was hominid, but far from human, nearly a whole foot smaller than Topher. "The beginning ends here."

"Who..." I cooed, struck by the alien appearance of the maiden. On the extraterrestrial stone's way down to her palm, it glowed brightly, before encircling her a few times, spiraling all the way down to her legs, then back up to her paw, before becoming faint again, like some sort of magic act. She held it tightly.

"If you're wondering, then let me bring respite to your confusion: Yes, I can see you," she began, opening her eyes startlingly. I gasped with enough of an inhale to choke. "Easy, Cruce. Don't die on me—you're already a ghost. Laza's power is still infantile, so I can't stay for very long. Oh, this doesn't seem to be helping your confusion at all."

I babbled something between "What?" and "No", every word escaping those feline lips reminding me just how deep I have plunged into a dream.

"Cat got your tongue? Well," she giggled. "No one can see you, hear you, or touch you. By extension, this goes for all of the other senses. If you want to set that right, you'll need to listen to my advice. Do you understand?" the cat woman sneered, her mood quickly dipping into a more serious timbre despite the taunting manner.

"Did you do this to me?" I growled.

"I said, 'do you understand'?" she repeated, thorns on her tone, razors in my throat as I swallowed.

"Fine, yes. I'll listen to you, just please... fix me. I can't live like this."

"Of course you can't! I couldn't," she sympathized, fingers against her ambiguously womanly chest, busty, yet devoid of breasts. "And that's why I'm here to begin with. How little it is you know. It's adorable, how you are His chef d'oeuvre, the magnum opus of his gamma~. Sweet delight in a tabula rasa."

"I don't know if we speak the same language." I said, while, for one, finding myself enraptured by the soothing drizzle of her tongue dancing around such wonderful words, and, for another, growing impatient at her stalling manner. Was she stalling, or... w-who was she, anyway?

"Oh, we do. Let me speak this clearly for you. Do you see this rock? It's a very special rock, I'm sure you know," she teased, smirking, her face pointed towards the space stone with her eyes locked onto mine. "But it would be presumptuous to say that the rock alone did this to you. No, that's not it, Cruce. The rock was a means of conveyance, a seed. The seed tucks itself into a nice, cozy mind somewhere, reads that mind, and gives itself a name. But you got a very bad seed, Cruce. You got a seed that didn't like your mind, so it was pushed out."

"I'm my own mind? Why does my mind look like this?"

"Naturally, our minds do not have a shape, and neither do our spirits. Your spirit has been _given_ a shape and a color. The only way for you to return to your friends is by giving them that very shape and that very color."

"I-I don't understand," I sputtered, looking at that godforsaken rock, my ghostly heart skipping a few beats. "It's too abstract; I wasn't prepared for riddle-talk. How am I supposed to do anything when no one can even see me?"

"I didn't say it would be easy," she smiled wide, full of remorse, a slight shrug lifting one of her shoulders. "You will need to think outside of the world you've nestled up to. After all, it's not your world anymore. You've become part of the hive that this rock has brought to Earth. I encourage you to explore that hive. Someone is destined to be waiting for you on the other side. Whoever that person may be, they will help you share your color in one way or another. Then, you will be one step closer to undoing this curse."

"Curse? One step? Hey, why the heck can't you help me? Can no one see you either?" I commented, squinting again, this time out of nothing but skepticism.

"I can be seen by anyone and everyone. I just don't have very long before I have to go! I'm operating under a teensy tiny time crunch," answered the lady, her legs bending, torso coming closer. She was crouching, escaping the sun and dropping into a level where my eyes weren't battling with shining shapes. Her arm was outstretched, the hand open, presenting me with the meteorite. "I could never hold your hand. I can only make sure that another shadow of fate has been called to the stage. Cruce, this is going to be very, very painful, but I've seen you cope with pain and I _know_ you can break through. I'm sure your sister would agree."

My bodiless form clenched in on itself. I bobbed my head away from the woman.

"My sis—what are you? Tell me your name!" I said, the lady hesitating. I had images of a girl go through my mind—myself. They were going through me, if I was my own mind. There were smiles and frowns all around, bouncy days, loud tears, slammed doors, yelling voices, happy endings to crappy stories that were told around dinner tables and bedsides. There was a music box that never stopped playing until the candle went out and the monitor flat-lined.

"My name?" she queried. "My name, my name," she said, head swaying to and fro, left to right. "I didn't think about that. I suppose I don't have to tell you my name. So, why don't we settle for something you may never understand?" she answered, grasping both of my paws with her free hand, pulling me closer to her. The tug was strong enough to perturb fight or flight, stirring adrenaline into my form. But she didn't hurt me. Instead, she set the mystic rock into both paws, and then took her hands away once she was sure I was holding onto it. She stood up and blocked the sunlight. Like a child, my jaw hung open, and my eyes followed the shiniest thing around. "I'm Xima... I am Xima. That's right. The memories. Memories are funny things."

Xima. She told me her name was Xima, or at least what she expected me to believe. I didn't know what to believe, so I went along with it. Her name was Xima. She wasn't looking at me when she told me that name. She was looking to the sky, like the clouds presented to her a title, an answer to a question that neither of us seemed to understand. There was a quick gust of wind, brushing through my fur, sending strand upon strand over itself. I looked down to confirm that feeling, my chest yielding to the wind in such an inhuman way, reminding me of the shape I've been molded into.

"So, I need to-" I froze when I spoke, because I had to look back up to let her know I was speaking to her, but there was no one there to talk to. And in one day, I grew nostalgic, because she was gone, just like me; the world didn't remember her enough to give her body a frame. Just like me.

I wish her name meant more to me than it did. I wish that I could have said I knew that name from somewhere. She knew my sister. Was she... _no_... that was stupid. I didn't live that kind of dream. My dream was full of harm, but... she did give me a clue to one of my greatest ordeals to date. I sighed, letting myself become taken by the gentle rock, chastised by it for being too human. Was that it? Was I too human? Why did you hurt me so much, rock? No, seed. Seed. Bad seed.

"I need to explore the hive," I said to no one. It didn't matter. "I need to give them my shape and my color, and we can... see each other again. How do I do that, Xima?"

I waited. I watched the rock, and waited.

There were willows around the backyard. They rustled loudly, then meditated, then rustled again, like ocean waves. A roll, a whiteout, a splash... A roll, a whiteout, a splash. Over and over.

The waves never end. They just keep crashing onto the shore.

They keep coming, some larger than others, some crashing earlier. Every wave is different.

Over and over, a design that cannot be fixed as long as the world spins and the sand snakes through the hourglass. So long as the stars burn their light into a fixed space. So long as there is that light.

…

So long...

So sleepy...

So... distant...

…

Drop.

Something hit the ground.

I was laying down, so maybe it was me who fell. I didn't remember falling. The fall didn't hurt, but the ground felt foreign. It didn't feel like a ground at all. It was too soft. The sound of waves clawing at land echoed, splashing, pulling back, and splashing all over again. The air smelled like salt and seaweed. The light of the sun was over to the west instead of the east, like a day had jumped over me and landed on the other side. The sky was orange with twilight.

I sat up and noticed sand beneath me. There was sand all around me, with a canvas of sparkling blue, pink, and scarlet lurching out to the heavens, a golden orb dipping into the shimmering deep.

"This is... a beach?" I asked, sitting up, rubbing my head, my other paw devoid of a rock or a clue. I wasn't home anymore. "Wait, what happened? Where did I go?"

I battled with my own body in order to stand up in the sand, brushing the grains out of my fur and searching one hemisphere, then the other. Beach draped over the land as far as my bodiless eyes could see. There were no curves. It was a straight line of sand into infinity, forward and back, its arms stretching impossibly wide to hug the empty ocean. Behind the beach was a hill. I walked up to the hill, my form disturbing the sand little enough for me to climb the dune, symmetrical along the entirety of the beach. When I came to its peak, I gasped, nearly tripping up at my discovery. Luckily, I got it all together before anything nasty could happen.

There was nothing over the hill. No land, no grass, no world.

"Whoa, there's nothing here. It just ends?" I whispered. The other side of the hill was a steep drop-off, grains of sand flicked off into a twilight oblivion with each push of the waves. There were stars behind the colorful emptiness, murky through the phantasmal sunlight. I held my breath, trying to throw logic at all of this. Was this beach floating? Was this like some sort of crazy planet? Where was I? A dream?

Fearful, I got onto all four paws and backed down, tracing my steps down the hill where I felt safer, the waves reverberating behind me again, instead of their ghoulish howl into a void below.

_ "_Where does the water go? Is it just that there's only 'stuff' on this side of me?" I asked, facing the droning sea, draped with dusk. "Mmm, I'm alone again. How does that help?"

I sat down and watched the ocean be...

I don't know...

...an ocean... just here. Just an ocean here, nowhere.

I became envious of it. Even in a world where nothing made sense, it could still be an ocean, doing everything an ocean did. It didn't matter if it was alone or surrounded by friends. It didn't need words or thoughts or senses. It just needed to _be. _It _was._

I was, but I could no longer be. That was because I was alone, and that divided me from the sea.

I laid back, plopping into the warm sand, arms out.

"What do you want from me, universe? Do you want tears? Do you want me to shout again? I'm not a toy. Don't play with me." I spoke, pauses between each statement, filling the gaps that each wave left for me to ponder over. I closed my eyes and let the sound wash me away for a while. The sun's warmth never changed, so I didn't know what a while felt like here. Maybe hours were seconds, or maybe seconds were hours. However it worked. It worked for Earth somehow. Mm...

There was a sound between the waves.

The sound was trying its best to disrupt each and every wave, every crash and rush of the water. It was the softest sound, like a hummingbird's wings. It came a little bit closer, then stopped moving at all, the sound in front of me.

"Who are you?!" she yelled, shattering the solace. My eyelids threw themselves back. I couldn't sit up, because she was hovering right atop me. Dammit, this again?!

"Gnh, hey! Not cool—c'mon, I was... I-I was alone, but now I'm not?" I regressed, capturing the image of the girl. She was very pink, with bright emerald eyes, dark circles around each, but she didn't look tired enough to give such circle any justice of being there other than beauty. The back of her head was curved up, plant-like, with two green-tipped antennae poking out of her forehead. The hummingbird noise was born of her thin, clear wings.

"Tell me who you are and why you're in the Timescape!" she commanded, her shady eyes like slits now. I pushed myself away from her, digging my feet into the sand.

"Wait, I don't—hold on! My name is Cruce! Uh, Cruce Maximilius, if that helps?" I told her. Somehow, lying didn't seem possible. Or reasonable. I had nothing to lie about.

"Cruce? That's all wrong. That Cruce? No," She backed off, her back straight, looking away, off into the endless sand-stretch. "That Cruce should still be human, unless I'm already too late."

"That sounds a little like you know me. Are you the person who Xima was talking about?"

"Xima?" she turned to me again, one eye half lifted, puzzled. "I don't know anyone named Xima. Oh shoot, this is bad. Cruce, do you remember what happened when you transformed?"

"When I transformed? There were some figures that showed up. One of them said... what was it... something about Lazareon." I paused, watching her, worried she might flail in a fit of shock. That wasn't the impression I wanted to get from someone like her.

"Mhmm? Carry on?"

"Then there was another guy who looked like me, and suddenly my body was in one spot, and this body here was in another. Then no one could see me."

"This is worse than I thought. Laza's already reached someone, and it's you of all people. I don't understand how, but I've underestimated him before."

"Hang on, this is all going to fast. What're you, even? Who? I just got here and things happened, and-"

"I'm sorry. You don't belong in this barren place. I wish I could tell you everything, but I'm short on time. My name is Celebi. I need to get to another opening to your world."

"Celebi, okay, got it. Opening to my world, sure. Still have no clue what's going on, but I guess I'll stick around and see what happens."

"Yes, thank you! Hurry! No time to waste!" she hollered, already buzzing her way north. Or south. I didn't really know where that direction was. It was so two-dimensional here that I would have settled for 'the direction in front of me'. Forward. She was headed forward, flying over the sandy expanse. Meanwhile, I could barely saunter after her through the terrain. She had to stop and look back periodically just to make sure that I was still on her trail. She didn't come off as mischievous or wicked in any manner. She was frightened by something, but she didn't let that overcome her. She didn't let it deter her from stopping to wait for a lost kid like myself. I liked her for that.

The sun refused to budge. The beach was frozen in a state of twilight. It was hard to tell how long we were going. We kept moving until the plant-like girl stopped and looked at the red sun, squinting, holding one arm out to defuse some of the rays.

"Right here," she said as soon as I came into earshot. I couldn't run as fast as she could fly as a human, let alone a clumsy cat ghost. "See where the sunlight catches the ripples in the water? The shine is all off. There's a disturbance on the other side."

I looked, but all I saw was a long, bright streak of white painted across the ocean, bleeding into the solar orb on the horizon.

"I don't really see anything, and the longer I look, the blinder I become, so like..."

"Oh. Hehe, it's a little tough to make out, but I guess when you've been doing this as long as I have, you adapt. Just trust me, then. This is the spot, so let's go back here." she instructed, turning away from the sea and hovering right up to the top of the hill. I reached out before I started after her, as if afraid for her life. What was I so distraught for? She knew what she was doing. Plus, she could fly, and that would have been nice in an endless void of forever. Right?

"What's down there?" I asked, grunting, climbing the sand at its steepest part.

"If I'm right on the mark, Vince should be down there." she answered, the airy echoes from the sea finding their way to the empty abyss below.

"Vince? That's an oddly specific name. Any Vince in particular? 'Cause I do know a Vince."

"That's right. The Vince you know is waiting on the other side. He's the only one who has just a little bit of that special stuff inside of him to make this work. At least, he should. Every time I make the plunge, I fear I've come ill prepared for the difference in the cycle. Cruce, I want you to follow me—no, follow Vince. The best case scenario is that I go into his brother and fix this whole nightmare before it can ever begin, but with you here, I don't know if that's possible."

"Y-you kind of lost me at 'plunge'. I see a pit to nowhere in front of us and you said 'plunge'." I shuddered.

"I did say that, yes. Don't worry! It's not as bad as you think. Just trust me, okay? Don't be afraid." she said, pleading, flying a little bit closer to me, until her feet were as mine were. We were touching sand together, Celebi by my side, patting the space between my ears.

"Easier said than sold." I sighed, letting her pet me. I cherished the touch. I wasn't sure if it was the last one I'd ever get, but it felt a lot like something Tophs would do for me, and I needed it so much more than she knew. Maybe she did know. After all, she knew a Cruce.

"I need to get this wave rolling," Celebi spoke again, after a moment of contemplation that we shared. "It looks like someone already started it in my place, but the very least I can do is try."

"Wave? Um, Celebi," I muttered. I got her attention, but I wasn't watching her. "Why can no one see me? I don't want to go back to a world where no one can see me."

"You really have become one of us," she responded. "That's why you can be here on the Timescape. This is where you are physically rooted, Cruce. Right now, I'm the same way. I need to get myself a body on the other side. I need to give it my shape and my color. I want to help you, but if I don't set the gears in motion, you won't have a world to go back to. Stay by Vince whenever you can. You can use those meteorite fragments to return to this place and travel between different points on the other side. If worst comes to worst, you may need to take a body for yourself, although I'm not sure if anyone has your gamma. Aye, sorry, I'm not making much sense! It's so weird seeing you here, Cruce, and, on that note, seeing you as Pokémon before anyone else. Mmkay, 'nough chatter. I need to go! Let's meet again sometime, okie? I might be able to help you more then! See ya, Cruce!"

"Oh. See you, Celebi." I cooed, lifting my paw to wave goodbye. Her body tilted to the side, coming so much closer to falling off of the world. There came a point where she moved too far over the edge, and her small body yielded to the gravity that called even a world as strange as this its territory. I couldn't help myself. I had to gasp at the motion, peering over the dune as she delved into the unlimited dusk, figure disappearing into a maelstrom of color. And, just like that, I was alone again. See you, Celebi...

What a weird girl... nice, but hasty. She didn't know Xima. Xima was also a weird girl, but I had a hard time identifying her. Maybe it was something about the way her body was. So much taller...

A body. Celebi wanted a body, because hers was still stuck on this world. Why would she want a body? What was she supposed to be doing? The idea of taking a body was a little shady for me, and for that body to be Vince's. Why Vince? Did I miss something down there? Well, I did agree to sticking close, so if Vince was at the bottom of this pit, then taking a leap of faith was to be the best call. I took a deep breath. I took several. You couldn't brace yourself for something as absurd as this and still have the gall to call yourself sane.

Topher raced through my thoughts. He came after my sister...

And then I jumped.

Colors melted into me, and I melted into them. I became the twilight, the jittery feeling plaguing my stomach fading away when the fall turned to silence, and the silence turned to white noise.

_I don't want to take a body._

_ How could I still call myself Cruce after that?_

_ Seems like such a poor decision to make, but this is all beyond me. _

_ I just want my life back, and no one else's. _

_ I wish I could tell you that I was sorry for all the times I've neglected you, Tophs. Having your arms around me was something I should have treasured. Having me hold your hand on that first day of high school was something I should have been proud of. _

_ And you, l'il sis._

_ You..._

_ …_

Arrival came beyond the drop.

I was laying prone on the ground, the grass before me having had its color rusticated, reduced to a withered yellowish brown. There was a rock here, warm and glowing, like the one from before. It was larger, maybe a bit bigger than a basketball. Watermelon? Pumpkin... tire... so sleepy...

I fought the dreariness, my conscious as fresh as it was on that mysterious beach, if not a bit hazed with more confusion than sense. It took me little moment to get back up to my feet, but I did, and when I did, I saw farm animals around me, fencing, old wooden stables, a barn, a blue sky above and a sun that seemed to move just a little bit faster. All right. So, I was still a pink ghost cat. Did Celebi say something about me being a Pokémon? Eat your heart out, reality, 'cause hell if I had anything to say about that one either.

There was an old, rustic house not too far from here. Fifty paces, maybe. I rolled my tiny shoulders and headed there. I was approaching the rear entrance, sealed off with a sliding glass door. I peeked inside and saw a quaint, laminate kitchen, an old ebony wood interior behind it. Charming little place. One glance told me that it had plenty stories to share. Most importantly to me was the guy walking his way down the narrow flight of stairs, palm tracing the handrail. He made a beeline for the kitchen, then came around the corner again with a bottle of water in one hand, the other reaching for the sliding glass door. He stepped out and I stepped back, knowing that he would have seen me by now were it not for the issue in question.

Vince looked a lot different, being as short as I was. All of his features seemed a little more present, especially the muscle tone in his legs. I knew the dude was a big advocate of running. One of those legs took a step right through me, a second bringing him out of me. There was a hum, rapid and fleeting. Vince stopped with the slightest of grunts. His free hand was poised halfway between open and closed.

When he turned around, I froze. What was that, Vince? What did you see?

When he lowered his head to me, I couldn't even speak. He was looking right at me. I saw a flash of green in his eyes. Celebi.

He saw me. He had to have seen me.

But, just like that...

He turned away and carried on, heading onto the farm at a pace my own legs wouldn't bother keeping up with. I wanted to reach out to him even though I was so stiff from the encounter. Nothing's changed then. I was still just a ghost. Celebi found her way, but I was still on my own. Maybe she was the one who saw me. It wasn't Vince. He should've said something on the matter. Vince wasn't happy at all—didn't appear too much like he was in the mood for talking anyway. There was a terrible sorrow in that face, and it looked like it had a lot to do with that glowing rock in the middle of their property, wedged into the earth. I could smell the sadness he barricaded. Maybe, by some astronomical chance, he lost someone as dear to him as I had. Maybe he would have understood me if I still belonged to this world.

Maybe, if I gave him enough time, he could meet me again, through Celebi's shape and color. One step closer, was it?

_Okay, Vince, I hope you don't mind me haunting you for a little bit. No hard feelings, right buddy?_

_ Maybe you can tell me what's bothering you so much. Celebi said something about a brother. Was that your prob? Your brother? Sorry, I'm not the most perceptive guy, but there are some bad vibes I'm getting from that word. Brother, hm? Your brother's in trouble._

_ Celebi, do what you gotta do. I can't do much else but wait for you._

…

…

…

The weekend was solemn. I remained silent for these two days. I did what I could on the English project, though pushed it aside within only a couple hours of starting. It wasn't so much procrastination, but I was okay with calling it that. In honesty, I got called to work on the farm. I was instructed to help herd the animals away from that ground zero—site of the meteorite. We had plenty of land for the horses and cattle to graze or do whatever. They had just so happened to be in that particular danger zone. Seeing what that rock did to my brother, getting the animals to a safe distance was a priority.

What the rock did to my brother exactly wasn't clear. It didn't strike him. He did what any boy his age, hell, even mine, would have done in that scenario. A simple poke led him to the state he was in now. And that failed to make any sense to me. If he received some sort of electrical shock from the meteorite, I was pretty sure he would have been awake by now.

I did developed a theory during dinner on that Saturday night. This was assuming Doctor O'Brien was right about the development of a second brain, which I assumed was already a regularity in animals like humans (left hemisphere and right hemisphere, I think). Yeah, if the doc was right about the second brain hypothesis, it would've explained why Drew has slipped into a coma. I guess his body didn't know what to do with two brains. It sounded like I was just thinking the obvious. That wasn't my theory. My theory pertained to why my head had been killing me since Friday. It was specifically around the frontal lobe of my brain. Or my skull. Something. Drew made physical contact with the rock. He passed out, possibly beginning the dual-brain development on the spot. I was near the rock. Well maybe I, too, was undergoing this transformation at a pace which my body was capable of keeping up with. Shit, I don't know. My beliefs became complicated beyond this theory. I looked into it like a fascinated scientist or book nerd or something of the sort. I was, in no way, a book nerd. I used to pick on that stereotype back in the earlier days of my school career.

I left the dinner table early that evening to pursue this train of thought without distraction. I found myself motivated to think. I assumed it was because my brother's life was on the line. I restarted my English project, using this very situation as a topic. I wish I had done it in the absence of the mind-splitting headache, but I couldn't be stopped by that. My motivation was unfazed. I researched cases of meteors striking Earth. I researched the electrical activities of brains and how they can be recorded with EEGs. Those were the things used to monitor all the neurons in gray matter. My research left me with a daunting conclusion, or choice, perhaps. Either the rock was infested with an extraterrestrial bacteria which infiltrated my brother's body and congregated into his brain to form a mass of tissue similar to a brain, or my brother's brainwaves had resonated with the magnetic properties of the rock's foreign properties in such a way that it goes beyond the understanding of modern science. Our English teacher's generosity in making this assignment flexible was a light to all of this. I could've focused on something such as a governmental issue, all boring and whatnot, but Davis wasn't like a lot of the other teachers there. The only dilemma was that this topic had to be relatively known. A solution to that might have been on the way to our very house.

Investigators chasing the issue of this meteorite led the Autumnridge News our way. I was sure Metedia High was keen to catch on. I was qualified to be an interviewee; I was present at the scene when it happened. Only appropriate.

I needed to be in the mood to speak and well rested enough to make words sound good. That was the moment I turned to see exactly what time it was. It happened to be three in the morning. I faced the many papers which crowded my desk, all of them fully typed and double spaced, as the teacher instructed. I was finished with the project. Though I wanted to learn more, I figured sleeping was more of a need than a want. I thought my schedule would have been damaged by that all-nighter at the hospital. Luckily, it wasn't too crooked. Upon organizing these papers into a more fitting mass, I yawned, switching off my monitor and CPU. The project was done, and I felt content about that. It had also kept me from mindlessly grieving over the obscurity of my brother. I got some optimism. My research wasn't that clear, and kind of illogical, thus there was no way my brother would be killed by this "thing". He was already on the road to recovery. Something told me that. Something I couldn't quite explain. I could tell you it was a part of my headache, however. It told me that my little brother was just "there". He was present. His presence was clear. Inside me. Beyond me. He was everywhere. It felt like he was commanding me to do something for him... I would have happily done whatever it was he wanted. And this was the very idea which gave me hope. He'd make it through.

I shut the lights off, throwing myself under the blankets. I felt wrapped in a kind of cotton bliss. It was a little unusual for me to feel this comfortable, but maybe it was because it was a lot later than my preferred hours of settling in bed. I was tired. It was that simple. I also had a very bizarre feeling aside all of this. My back ached. It wasn't my spine, rather two spots in my back. It felt as though I needed to scratch the inside of my back muscles. Couldn't reach, couldn't scratch...

I wanted to my mind to ease into sleep as adeptly as my body had. That much was a tall order. The pain from all of these aches didn't even come close to this third thing; it kept me awake, that thing. So many things. After letting it get the better of me for a bit, I tossed, facing the other direction, and when I did that, I gasped. Something was laying with me. It was little, all nestled up in its pink fur. Soft breaths gave me the impression it was snoring away, but the way it gave my bedroom a soft glow spooked me senseless. There was a lot of sadness coming off of it. I reached out to touch the feline creature. The fur was warmer than I'd thought. It stirred a little bit, stretching out until it was laying on its back with one paw kneading at the air, the other limp against its chest.

A couple blinks later and it was gone, stolen from my perception. Was that where my comfort came from? Was that something that should or should not have been with me? Was it still with me? Dammit, just when I thought I had a few more things figured out... It didn't seem like a bad ghost. There was something... familiar, about it. It looked like it was okay with sharing this space.

_Okay... fine, let's... get to sleep. I know you're still there..._

Consciousness escaped, chasing after the ghost.

…

And when I awakened, I was alone again.

Sunday was eventful, though I was still fairly silent. My predictions about the Autumnridge News were correct. A little after my sore head brought me back to the encounter with the sleeping ghost in my bed, I checked out my bedroom window. A large white van and a few other unrecognizable cars were stationed in a small dirt field that was never used until today, a place to put machines, I guess. Among these vehicles were a couple police cars. I was wondering just far this investigation would have been taken before any results were to have come in. How would the results have even existed? This was on the border of science fiction. How could an investigation make this out? Well, the investigation itself was organized for curiosity's sake. Who wasn't interested in rocks from space? It was both astronomy and geology. The idea was neat. Interested, I left my room and made for the bathroom at the end of the upstairs hallway. My brother's room was adjacent to mine, which was at the far end of the hallway, thus making it the most remote room in the house. I didn't mind. I was a cross-country runner, after all. Emptying a full bladder, I gazed at myself in the mirror. My jaw dropped slowly at this sight. My irises had changed. They were no longer their usual dark hazel. My eyes were a deep blue, encircled slightly in black, plain and simple. Quickly, I turned away, swallowing spit and placing a hand on the sink counter, the other pressed against my aching head.

"Did I see that right?" I asked myself, keeping my calm and staring into the mirror once again. Indeed, I did see it correctly. My eyes had changed color. Had they done this overnight? Had I not noticed it yesterday? "Holy shit, how do I..." I paused mid-sentence, unsure where that thought was headed. A second irregularity resided near my eyes. My face had a light greenish tint. It was subtle, but it was certainly green. And it was odd. It might have given one the impression that I was ill. Refusing to hesitate, I stripped down, tossing my clothes aside and standing completely exposed to the air. My body, in fact, was this same green tint. My torso and below, excluding my arms, were a bit darker green. That was odd. There were even more problems with my face as well. Two very small bumps rested on my forehead, as if I were growing tiny horns. They were hardly noticeable visually, however running my finger across those spots proved that bumps were there. They were not blemishes. It felt as though someone had planted small rocks into my skull.

"Rocks..." I spoke aloud, though quietly. This returned my focus to the meteorite. Were small meteorites growing inside of me? Was it happening to Drew? It was actually quite terrifying. I could have been seeded with some alien's baby. I could turn into some alien's baby. That thought was strangely comforting, though not particularly appealing.

I continued to scan my body. Specifically, I was not very tall. I measured at about five and a half feet, weighing one twenty pounds. I was puny for my age, but that was because of the exercise, as well as my genes. I struck people as just another white athlete boy most of the time. My hair was a reddish brown, usually parted in the front. It grew out fairly fast, as it was approaching my shoulders once more. I honestly didn't mind long hair, but my father had problems with it. To avoid conflict, I had it cut regularly. Hopefully it didn't turn green or something anytime soon. I was still skeptical. Maybe I was seeing things... then again, the chances of an energized meteorite crashing into our farmland were about one in an obnoxious number. That happened.

The mirror may have been playing tricks on me. I closed the bathroom door, but someone still walked in, going right through that door. It had one job. One job, but it failed even that. Still, the visitor was more or less someone I could understand getting through a door. That cat followed me from my slumber. The ghost came back to the physical world. I made a noise halfway between a grunt and a gasp and touched a palm to the mirror. I didn't want to look back, even though its face gave me the story of a human's embarrassment. I was naked—maybe it understood that.

"I know you're there." I said, clinging to his existence, desperate for a response.

"Huh?!" he mewed, a blush reddening the fur at his face.

"I can see you. What are you?" I queried, turning around to an audience of none. My face flushed away with aversion to the whole thing. He wasn't there anymore, and when I looked into the mirror, he was gone twice over. "What the hell are you?"

_Keep it... together..._

After that awkward impasse, I showered, shaved. I felt better with the regard to hygiene, but I was still cross about the ghost. It knew I saw it. What did it want with me? Goddamn, just... settle down, Vince. I needed to focus on the problem at hand. At _body_, for Christ's sake.

I was still very slightly green. I knew I was approaching denial about this. I couldn't wash off the color of my skin, but I tried not to concern myself with what could be covered.

As I finished my duties around the house, it was time to explore the intentions of the news. With dark enough sunglasses over my eyes, I joined my mother and father outside, throwing behind the encounters and the changes.

I was interviewed that day. About forty feet in front of a square zone sealed off with yellow caution tape was where they interviewed my mother, father, and I. It was easy enough to guess what'd been sealed off. Another of my predictions were correct. Ghosts and predictions—was I psychic? Well, I _was_ fortunate enough to be briefly interviewed during the live broadcast.

"My brother and I were assuming this would be an unusual thing; something you don't really get to experience in life that often. Well, yeah, I was right. I kinda wish I wasn't. For all I know, some space bug could be crawling around in my brother's brain right now. I know it's weird, but sometimes truth is stranger than fiction. Do I think that's the case? I don't. But based on what doctors have told us, what else could it be?" That was where the news shifted to the next issue.

The rest of my day was blue and dull. I decided to touch up on my project, as well as do some recreational research. I would normally have never done this in my spare time. Right now, I'd be exercising or working around the farm. Or both. Given the conditions, it was unlikely I'd get to either today. Despite my head still throbbing in significant pain and the knowledge that I was undeniably green in hue, next to being stalked by a phantom cat, I kept reading through documents online as though they were a source of entertainment. I couldn't stop. It was hypnotizing, but I had enough of it over getting too lost in the topic of time travel. Fun stuff. Altered histories, paradoxes, dimensions...

Pushing myself away from my desk, I spun to the side, eyes watching the sinking sun outside. I stared into the sky, not directly looking at the sun of course. But I was able to decipher its movement into the horizon. It was a beautiful sight. The sun hovering over the darkened trees, pink and golden clouds granting the scenery a softness. Strangely enough, I became distracted with the trees. I couldn't explain why I felt so entranced by them. I was never particularly a naturalist, but I did appreciate nature. I ran all the time through parkway paths and hillsides and the like. It was enthralling to say the least.

I caught something out of the corner of my eye.

Something pink, bright, and sad.

My attention flicked over to it like a discordant sound just played in that direction, a note struck wrong. There it was, sitting on my bed, strangely human in posture, its eyes fixed on the same sunset.

"Why are you following me?" I asked. It looked at me and blinked.

"Vince? Are you talking to me?" he spoke—_spoke. _Not _made a noise_; he spoke to me. His voice was childish, but it didn't have the same kiddish dialect. He could form sentences maturely, in a sense.

"I'm looking right at you and saying words. Yeah, I'm talking to you." I answered, not coy or angry or anything. I was frustrated, sure, but more shaken than anything, blanketed by the fact that he can communicate. He. I assumed he was male.

"L-listen, I'm sorry if I've scared you, but I'm so glad you can see me now, I-"

"Scared me!? You've been driving me insane for the past day. Why can't you just make up your mind and either appear or disappear?" I vented, arms out, so hopelessly confused. He didn't get to respond to that with words. I felt more sorrow leak from his furry face than before, but he...

"What in the diddlies are you doing...?" asked my mother, looking at me as though I were some sort of lunatic. I hardly noticed she had been standing in my doorway for however long. Turning to her, I frowned, shrugging and honestly not bothering with a verbal answer. When I looked back to the bed, the ghost was gone again. "Well, in any case, you've been up here for a while. The news cars are gone. I've got dinner waiting for you downstairs. Hurry on down before it gets cold." Hasty as usual, she left before I could ask her what it was. I guess I'd have to find out for myself. Increasingly agitated by the obscurity of that fickle cat, I stood up from my desk chair, glancing at the window for a few more seconds with an irked brow. It was sort of like an irritated poker face, really. I didn't like to be interrupted, especially not when I was just... so close...

Dinner was roasted pork, carrots, and rice. Yeah, funny. I was told carrots are nutritious for your eyes. I was forced to wonder if they restored your eye color. That struck me swiftly as soon as I sat down. My eyes were blue. Too blue. Unfortunately, my father beat me to that realization.

"Boy, the heck is up with your eyes?" he squinted at me, not particularly in the same fashion I had done to the sunset, but in a way which made me nervous enough to face the other direction. "What'd you do?"

"His eyes? What's wrong with his eyes?" my mother inquired, setting down at the table herself and pulling her chair closer. "Vincent?"

"Boy's eyes weren't blue, right?" Father spoke again. He tended to talk in a raspy, smoker's voice. Which suggested he, in fact, smoked. He did, and it was a poor habit. Getting him to stop these habits was quite impossible. He was stubborn about it, and pretty sensitive. At times, his voice was a bit hard to understand, which made working with him a bother.

"What? His eyes are blue?" Mom doubted him. At the same time, she called my name again. "Vincent, look at me," she commanded. I did so, though she still grasped my chin gently with three fingers, lifting my head up slightly. My eyes were locked on hers, which was a good thing for only one of us. "Oh, you're not kidding at all. What happened to you? Did you take something.?"

"I don't have anything to take," I replied, unsure how to answer the coming questions in any way other than to be honest. "I woke up today, went to the restroom, looked in the mirror. Blue eyes. Looks like I have dark circles, too. Kinda weird, but I don't feel any different." Well, _that_ was a lie. I felt crazy different. My head still pounded. My face was green, though Mom didn't seem to notice in the lighting. I was doing things that were unlike me. I was seeing ghosts. At this point, I probably would have been considered a nutcase.

"Might wanna see some'un for that. I don't want you goin' 'round with friggin' color-changing eyes, boy." Dad scowled. I retorted at his comment in my head. Who specialized in unnatural eye color shift? My father was the sort of many who detested the change in physical appearance these days, such as piercings and hair dyeing and whatever people found fun to do with their bodies. He said that all of that was designed for girls. He was so one-sided about it. It was annoying, but I didn't plan to get piercings anyway. It was a bit hard to hear my old man get so caught up on it though.

"Well," Mom began, letting go of my chin. I started eating as she spoke. "We'll see an eye doctor this coming week."

The rest of the dinner table conversation was dedicated to the Autumnridge News. There wasn't a lot to talk about out here. I lived in the rural county of Autumnridge. It was a quiet place, not to mention pretty free of the criminal element. Some people might have called it the middle of nowhere. I resented that. There were plenty places around here to prove quite the opposite. I was planning on staying local when I moved out of the house. Being a cross-country runner, I knew this place so well that I could navigate for miles. Blindfolded, in fact. And that would have been a solution to my color-changing eyes, if they were that offensive. Christ's sake...

With dinner finished and my hunger tamed, I returned to my research. Gazing out the window was not as exciting at night. I figured it was because it was night when that meteorite fell, and I was stuck planting the image of night to the comatose of my brother. Night, an ending.

That night, I saw the ghost again.

I felt bad for earlier, but I couldn't reach him. He was laying at the foot-end of my bed, all balled up and cozy. I couldn't say I was scared anymore. I already pitched my pain at him. He caught it pretty well, and it actually made me kinda happy to see that he didn't leave me for being a jackass. Nice ghost. I smiled, batting away at the sleepiness and pulling myself up, reaching over the blankets. I scooped the cat up, his fur as warm as ever, so strangely physical in that I could touch him at all, something that wasn't supposed to be there.

"Mmmrow?" he stirred, so light and frail. I pulled him close to my chest, one arm under his backside. My other hand was behind his head, fingers rubbing into his fur. It didn't matter that I was supposed to be a dog-person or that I didn't want to be haunted. He stayed here. He came out of nowhere and filled my room with what I had been missing. He could never replace what I lost, but he could bring me just a little bit closer to the sweetness that I longed for.

"Don't go..." I pleaded to him as quietly as his little floppy ears would need me to express. In that moment, all of the melancholy that came from him flipped around. When he leaned the side of his head against my chest, I was hoping he heard my heartache. I needed someone to. I needed him.

That was the last night he would disappear.

That weekend, Friday included, was a turning point. It was the beginning of the end. I was so wonderfully oblivious to that. It was the end of Vince. My eyes changed color. My skull felt like it was going to burst. My body appeared ill in its entirety. Honestly, that was just the beginning of a spiraling transformation no scientist or research could put into words.

My life was about to be changed forever. Sure, I knew it was impossible to live forever.

But this transformation was forever.

At the very least... I wasn't alone.


End file.
